


Muggle Technology and Heroism

by TommyLane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Five Step Plan of Seduction, A Mysterious Absence Of Plot Outside Of Their Relationship, Angst and Humor, Dialogue Heavy, Drinking and Dancing, Explicit Sexual Content, James Bond Fanboy!Draco Malfoy, M/M, Pining, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Squirt Gun Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 89,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7004578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TommyLane/pseuds/TommyLane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly the best roommate Harry’s ever had. The man tended to watch way too much James Bond and his obsession with muggle technology not only rivaled Arthur Weasley’s but more often than not ended with Harry trying to assure him that the appliances weren’t out to get him. Then there was the little fact that Harry was hopelessly in love with him while Draco remained completely unaware, bringing nameless men home night after night.</p><p>But Harry loved his life and was somewhat (as long as he doesn’t actually think about it) content enough in the way things were going. That is until Draco’s old boyfriend comes sweeping back into town – making Draco breakfast and fixing the remote control before Harry can and forcing him to realize that if he doesn’t do something soon, that he might lose the man he loves before he even gets a chance to ever actually have him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bother of Toasters

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This this will focus solely around Harry and Draco's relationship. It will be about 14ish chapters long and I've already got seven written, so you can be assured that there will be an update once a week :)

 

"Oi, wake up!"

 

Harry groaned, his arm flying up to cover his eyes from the sudden slanting of light prying at his eyelids. "Bugger off." He grumbled, shaking the hand on his shoulder off and trying to reclaim the sleep so rudely stolen from him. Merlin but it had to be ridiculously early still, his limbs and head greatly protesting the idea of the morning already arriving.

 

"Move your lazy arse Potter." There was a rough, solid yank, the sound of fabric flying, and Harry yelped as the covers were ripped from his body.

 

"Fuck Malfoy!" He cracked an eye open, glaring blindly up at the blonde who was triumphantly holding his bed covers with a victorious sort of grin. "What time is it?"

 

"Late." The blonde drawled, throwing the blanket to the foot of the bed and grasping Harry's bare forearm. "Now up, that damnable toaster of yours is acting up again."

 

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared. "The toaster? Are you seriously waking me up because you want to eat toast? You don't even like toast!"

 

Draco huffed as he gave up on trying to physically pull Harry off of the bed and crossed his arms indignantly across his chest. "I do to like toast..."

 

"Since when?" Harry rolled over and reached for his glasses, shoving them onto his nose after wiping the sleep from his eyes. It was useless fighting with the former Slytherin, not when he felt like the appliances were out to get him.

 

"Since now." Draco snapped. "Now up, there's a weird smell and I fear we may be in grave danger."

 

"Fucking nuts Malfoy." Harry grumbled, swinging his legs off the bed and grabbing at the first shirt his hand came in contact with on his bedroom floor before padding blurry eyed down the hall. Pulling the wrinkled shirt on with a yawn, Harry rounded the corner into the small kitchen and promptly wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell of burnt bread...and smoke, Merlin why was there so much smoke? "God what did you do?" He demanded, waving his hand in hopes of clearing some of the gray clouds from over the malfunctioning toaster.

 

" _I_ didn't do anything!" Draco protested, "It’s all the toaster, its gone dark I tell you."

 

"Cooking appliances don't _go dark_." Harry rebutted, his thumb pushing the spring loaded lever up and rolling his eyes as the pitch black bread that used to be a nice white popped up from inside its smoldering depths.

 

"I beg to differ." He sniffed, Harry just catching the blondes frown as he pinched the charred to unrecognizable death breakfast and tossed it into the sink. "See, I told you, I know for a fact that is not what that thing is supposed to do."

 

"You're right, but normal people also don't try toasting a simple piece of bread with the dial cranked up all the way." Harry said, turning the dial back to the two where it was supposed to be before carefully popping two pieces back into the slots and pressing the lever back down. "God I can't believe you woke me up for this." He blinked down at the messy counter top, at the open bread bag, a greased skillet, the empty plate, an unused mug sitting next to it...well messy for Draco anyway. He tapped the mug with his finger before glancing back at the table behind him, his gaze zeroing in on its full counterpart sitting at the ready.

 

"It was a fire Potter! We could have burnt to death!"

 

"No." Harry rounded on him, leaning back on the counter and crossing his arms. "No, about the worst that could have happened was you ruining our toaster. Again."

 

Draco frowned and tipped his chin up indignantly, Harry biting back a smile at the simple gesture. Living with Draco as a flat mate had taught him more about the blonde in a short amount of time then he ever thought he'd want to even know. Like the fact that Draco slept either completely naked (and boy was that a shock to find one morning) or in insanely expensive silk pajama bottoms. Or how he despised tea but drank black coffee like a fish, or how he didn't know how to work well... _anything_ even remotely muggle but continued to try none the less. Then there were the morning runs that left Draco sweaty as he stretched out his muscles on their living room floor, the books (some with titles Harry had to not look too closely at or else he might have do his Auror duty and file a report against him) the man left on every flat surface available, and the array of beauty products that lined their bathroom shelves like he was living with some sort of fashion model.

 

And the men. Merlin the men were the biggest shock Harry had suffered since moving in with the other man nearly a year ago. He had known Draco was gay, he had known that the blonde liked to go out and had frequent flings, but well, he honestly hadn't thought that he would have to _hear_ him with his counterpart of the week. It was torture, listening to his elegant lilt graveling in passion, the thunk of the headboard something Harry desperately tried to drown out with the volume on the telly. He couldn't stop from hearing it though, no matter what he did, like his mind was set on repeating what he knew Draco sounded like in the throes of passion just to drive himself mental.

 

Draco was still scowling at him in silence when the toaster popped and two perfectly golden brown pieces of toast sprang forth, a muscle in his pale neck twitching. Harry cocked an eyebrow and smirked as he plucked out the hot food and tossed them onto the awaiting plate. "See?" He said, thrusting the plate at Draco's chest.

 

"No proof." Draco took the plate and dropped down onto the kitchen chair, his long black pajama clad legs crossing at the ankle, Harry quirking his head to the side as his brain finally woke up enough to stop blinking unseeingly at everything and taking in the sight of the simple cotton, white tee adorning his upper half.

 

Draco didn't wear simple cotton. Nor did he wear anything that didn't fit him perfectly. It was easy to tell it wasn't his, that the thing adorning him in a baggy non-Dracoish way was _Harry's_ shirt, with the neck line still stretched out from where he couldn't stop tugging at it when he was agitated and trying to fall asleep.

 

Harry glanced away and tried to keep his cheeks from heating up. Honestly it was nothing really, Draco had stolen his shirts on more than one occasion, but it was typically on laundry day when Draco had gotten into his inevitable fight with the washing machine and all his clothes came out sopping and bubbling. _Not_ on mornings when Draco had entertained another nameless bloke the night before. "So...is there coffee?" Harry cleared his throat, hoping his tone came out causal enough. He hated how much Draco affected him, how seeing the man in his clothes tended to make him lose all train of thought, especially when Draco had made it undeniably clear that all he desired from Harry was friendship...and saving him from muggle technology.

 

"Mhmm." He nodded his head towards the half full French Press – one of the few muggle invention that Draco had declared as _absolutely fucking brilliant_ \- as he dipped a knife in the honey pot and smeared a smattering of the sticky substance onto his toast.

 

"Am I saving any?" Harry asked as he carefully poured the steaming black concoction into the mug sitting suspiciously by the _dark_ toaster. It was a very specifically worded question, Harry's way of asking in not so many words if a strange man was going to be stumbling down the hall anytime that morning.

 

"No need." Draco took a bite of his toast, washing it down with a long drink from his own mug as Harry sat down opposite him and smiled into his drink.

 

"Do you need me to take a look at the washer?" He asked, smiling softly and taking the offered piece of honey toast Draco slid his way without even glancing up at him.

 

"No, why?"

 

Harry fiddled with the crust and shrugged. "I just thought...you're wearing my shirt."

 

"Oh. Yes." Draco looked down at his chest before leaning back in his chair and meeting Harry's gaze head on. "Some men where too much cologne." He said in explanation, which really made no sense whatsoever and Harry knew his confusion showed clearly across his face because before he could even ask what the hell that had to do with Draco wearing his shirt, the other man was already explaining himself. "You smell better than he did. It was distracting, couldn't sleep with that awful department shop stench."

 

"Oh." Harry blushed, hiding his smile in his mug with another drink of the too strong coffee. His brain didn't know what to do with that information, didn't know what it meant that Draco had actually gotten out of bed, found Harry's shirt, put it on, and only then could fall asleep. _Nothing_ , another part of his subconscious warned him, _and don't you dare start thinking it does other than the fact that Draco Malfoy is a narcissistic not-at-all-interested in you bloke_.

 

"Do you mind?" Draco asked haltingly and Harry knew that if he were to glance up he would see one pale eyebrow arched and his gray eyes scrutinizing Harry in a far too knowing way.

 

So he kept his eyes on his plate and took a bite of the sweet toast to give him a moment to collect himself. "Course not." He smiled tightly.

 

"I was thinking of going into London today, I need to pick up some things, care to join me?" Draco asked, effectively closing the subject of Dark toasters and smoking bread and wearing Harry's shirt because he smelled better than whoever he was fucking the night before. It was typical Draco behavior and something Harry had quickly learned after becoming friends with the other man. Draco didn't like to dwell on anything, he cut off conversations and things and people like he was pruning dead branches - _always keep things moving, never let anything grow stale_ , was the blonde’s motto in all things. The man changed residence nearly every year, threw out entire wardrobes for reasons unknown, cast aside boyfriends and friends alike with barely a twitch of recognition. His life was meticulously ordered, perfectly kept, his pruning shears always at the ready to snip anything that grew in his distaste. It made him a brilliant Potions Master for his own business but a horrid boss to those in his employ.

 

It was a miracle Harry had actually lasted so long in his life and if he was honest, the darker man would admit that the idea that one day Draco would wake and proclaim himself done with their friendship was something that nagged at the back of his head. He didn't want to end up like so many others had, he didn't think he could take it.

 

"Okay, maybe we co-"

 

"Dray?"

 

Harry startled in his chair, nearly sloshing his hot coffee all over his fingers as he caught sight of the half dressed man in the archway. The stranger was handsome - they always were - with thick dark hair and sculpted abs and bulging biceps. He had blue eyes that were clear and sharp and cheek bones that could probably buy him a career in just standing around and looking pretty.

 

Harry hated him immediately.

 

"Yes?" Draco barely even glanced over his shoulder at the new addition, his lips slightly pursed and his fingers lifting his coffee with precise movements up in the air to hover inches from his mouth and Harry knew in that moment that the nameless pretty face wouldn't be coming back.

 

Pretty Boy glanced at Harry who narrowed his eyes in return, making him feel like a damn watch dog but alas, it couldn't be helped.  He never did like Draco's flings, no matter how long they lasted - a night, a week, the all elusive month, it didn't matter, he despised them all. "Do you...are you coming back to bed?"

 

"No." Draco deadpanned, his tone utterly bored, his lips parting and pale throat working as he took a small sip. "Your shoes are by the door."

 

Merlin Pretty Boy must have done something to seriously piss him off. Granted Draco was never nice about cutting his boy toys loose but he was usually somewhat more...stiffly cordial. 

 

"You serious?" Pretty Boy gaped, his thick arms crossing over his stupidly crafted, hairless chest. The man had to wax, being that smooth and that masculine was just not possible.

 

"Mhmm." Draco hummed before turning his eyes on Harry. "Shall we leave in an hour?"

 

And that was it, the thread was cut, Pretty Boy glared something dark, huffed loudly, colorfully shouted at Draco in order to tell him just exactly how to fuck off and was gone - the front door banging loudly and the wall rattling.

 

"More coffee?" Draco asked when the noise died completely away, a smile on his pink lips and Pretty Boy already forgotten.

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

"No, you're not getting that."

 

"Why not. Sounds rather useful does it not?"

 

"Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

 

"So uptight Harry, honestly what harm could come from such a small thing."

 

Harry rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh as he rubbed at his temple. "We don't _need_ an electric tin opener. You don't even like tinned food. You always complain about it being an uncivilized way to eat."

 

"Well obviously." Draco muttered, holding up the box and pointing at the printed reviews of praise for the _life changing_ appliance. "But it's clever, no. All one has to do is...well the backs a bit vague but it looks like you just place it near your intended tin and it somehow zaps it..." Draco's brow furrowed as he turned the box over, his eyes scanning over the text working its hardest to sell the stupid thing.

 

"Zap?" Harry laughed, snatching the box from his crazy flatmate and fitting it back on the shelf. "Trust me Draco, you buy that thing and tomorrow you'll be screaming at me to save you from it."

 

"Will not." He huffed, tipping the box back off the shelf and dumping it into the plastic shopping basket Harry somehow got suckered into carting around despite the fact that everything inside it wasn't his. "Now come on, Pansy said there's a coffee shop somewhere around here that is to die for, course she says that about nearly every new thing but who knows, perhaps this one will really be the all illusive diamond in the ruff."

 

"You don't need more caffeine." Harry interjected, his eyes widening at the prospect of walking back to their flat with Draco twitching at his side and rambling of a mile a minute.

 

"One always needs more caffeine." Draco corrected seriously, tugging on Harry's arm and dragging him over to the checkout counter, the blonde dropping three more useless knickknacks into the basket before Harry managed to get them through the line. The checkout girl kept shooting Draco odd looks as he fiddled with the miniature fans on display, but Harry was used it to by now and no longer cared that people tended to take two steps away and eye them dubiously whenever Draco got his hands on something that intrigued or confused him. He could really care less what a bunch of strangers thought anyway and beside he found it rather...adorable...or slightly irritating, depending on the hour and Draco's caffeine level.

 

"Gum's a funny thing, isn't it?" Draco muttered as Harry adjusted his grip on the brown paper bag housing their purchases, their feet hitting the pavement outside the shop in unison. "What's the purpose of this particular kind exactly?"

 

"You chew it"

 

"And?"

 

"That's it." Harry smiled, chuckling at the puzzled look on Draco's face.

 

"Well that's rather pointless."

 

"Yup."

 

"At least you can eat candy, you can't even eat this...or can you?" Draco pondered out loud, squinting as he tried to read the tiny letters spelling out the ingredients. "What's Aspartame?"

 

"No idea. And don't eat it."

 

"Muggles are odd." Draco grumbled, shoving the package of gum into his trousers pocket. "I'm hungry now, care for some sushi?"

 

Harry nodded, happy that the blonde had apparently forgotten about the coffee shop that was to die for and instead was going to get some sustenance into his coffee fueled body. "Sounds good."

 

"Excellent." Draco grinned, threading his arm through with Harry's, his hand sneaking into Harry's jacket pocket for warmth like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

 

Fighting a blush, Harry told his heart not to race as the blonde plastered his side against his, the notion of personal space something that had all but disappeared between them after Harry had somehow managed to break past Draco's icy exterior. Their friendship had started out rocky at best, a fragile thing that often ended up exploding violently before somehow mending itself, and then one day Draco had smiled his first real smile in Harry's direction over a cup of coffee and Harry suddenly found himself desperately trying to get him to do it again, and again, and again. He had never really stopped come to think of it, Draco's smiles were so rare, and utterly breathtaking. He was probably an idiot for moving in with the crazy bastard - something Ron frequently liked to remind him of - but when word got around that Draco was searching for a flatmate, Harry couldn't stop himself from rushing into it, the idea of anyone else having the privilege of waking up day after day to the blondes neurotic behavior leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
  
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Seamus barked, a riotous rise of laughter following in the aftermath of his spitted words.  
  
"Would I lie?" Pansy snickered, tossing a wadded up cloth napkin at his face but she missed horribly, the green and blue fabric veering sharply to the right and smacking Luna in the arm.  
  
"Always." Draco interjected and Harry heard the scrap of a chair as he turned back to his work, the sucking pop of a cork being pulled from a bottle soft against all the chatter in the small kitchen. "You were born with a lie on your lips Pansy love."  
  
"And I'm all the better for it." She huffed with the click, click of her nails thrumming against the table. "But this time I happen to be telling the utmost truth."  
  
"You do look a bit pink today." Luna hummed and Harry bit back a laugh as he chopped the fragrant leaves in careful strips.  
  
"See I'm pink, Luna says so and who can argue with such sound logic?"  
  
Seamus snorted. "I ain't convinced."  
  
"Pink dear." Pansy announced with a haughty little smile curving up the edge of her words.   
  
"What are you making?" Draco appeared behind him suddenly, his voice quietly pitched just below the rush of voices debating Pansy's ethics and ability to tell the truth and if being pink was a good or a bad thing. Harry honestly had no clue, Luna had called him aqua once and last week had declared Draco to be green...but fuck all if Harry had any idea what all that meant.  
  
"Gnocchi with fried sage in a brown butter sauce." Harry answered without taking his eyes off the sizzling butter in the skillet.

 

"Smells amazing." Draco stood close, the smell of his aftershave sharply citrus and yet subtle as he reached around him and placed a wine glass filled with a golden hued liquid next to where he was working. "Well?"

 

Tipping the pan, the butter swirling and bubbling around the tender potato dumplings, Harry paused and took a sip of the wine, the earthy flavor flooding his tongue. "Chardonnay?"

 

"Well would you look at that, you got it right for once." Draco chuckled and Harry grinned down at his work before switching the gas off and removing the skillet. "I knew my good breeding would have to rub off on you at some point."

 

Harry shut his eyes and breathed deep through his nose, the brush of Draco against his back making him dizzy as his words ghosted over him. He knew they weren't meant to be sexual but spending an entire weekend with Draco tended to make him foggy and over sensitive to every touch and look, made him forget at times his firm rule of never letting Draco know how he truly felt. That and not to touch the other man. Or sit too close. Or let his eyes trace those pink lips...but god he was horrible at keeping them, his will power nothing but a wet, helpless fog whenever Draco was near. Merlin but sometimes living with him was torture. Harry wasn't sure what was worse, listening to the blonde groan behind his bedroom door or these moments when they felt alone even amidst a crowd of their friends - when Draco leant close, and brushed fingers, and said things that made his resolve all but disintegrate.

 

It was pathetic, _he_ was pathetic really. Waiting and pining over what wouldn't ever be his, not fully anyway.

 

"Haha." He grumbled, shaking a mitt onto his hand as he pulled the door of the cooker open and withdrew the pan of grilled asparagus. "Grab the salad from the fridge would you?"

 

"Yeah." Draco grumbled before raising his voice and glancing over his shoulder, "Pans grab the salad yeah?" He shouted, snagging Harry's fork and spearing a pillow soft dumpling with a conspiratorial wink as Harry rolled him.

 

"Fuck off, I'm a guest." Pansy retorted and Harry smothered a laugh as Draco turned and glared at her.

 

"Merlin we've been slaving away for hours to make you this spectacular meal and you can't even move your lazy arse three feet to the fridge?" Draco huffed, waving the fork in the air in emphasis.

 

"Slaving? You? Ha!" Pansy laughed, her chuckle light as she sunk further back in her chair and took a slow, purposeful drink of her wine.

 

"I'll have you know that my astute sense of fine cooking is what makes all this possible." He said, jabbing the fork at her with a pointed look. "I'm an indispensable part of the cooking process. Right Potter?"

 

Harry nodded, letting a very serious expression overtake his face. "Oh yes, without Draco who would be here to open the wine?"

 

"You'd have me Harry!" Seamus piped in, raising his glass of lager in salute.

 

"Thank you Seamus, bet you'd even stir something once in a while too wouldn't you?" Harry asked, quickly sidestepping Draco's elbow before it could land sharply in his side. "Maybe even turn on the hob without setting a fire."

 

"Anything for you." Seamus grinned, downing a gulp of his beer as Harry skirted around Draco's venomous look only to find himself caught with the blonde's finger tangled in his belt loop. "Uh-oh someone pissed off the dragon."

 

"Better run for it Potter." Pansy deadpanned disinterestedly, her fingers curving in over her palm as she studied her painted nails.

 

"Dragons are very possessive creatures." Luna said airily.

 

"Does that mean Malfoy's going to throw Harry over his shoulder and lock him in his room?" Seamus wondered aloud as Harry stared up at Draco's face, a laugh he couldn't quite contain drifting past his lips as his flatmate glowered at him with a muscle twitching in his cheek that looked like it was desperately trying to lift the man's pale lips up into a smile that Draco would no doubt deem completely unrefined.

 

"God I hope not, I'm starving." Pansy whined as Luna patted her knee in reassurance and Harry's lower back hit the counter, his pulse jumping.

 

"Best grab the salad then." Draco threw back at her as he pulled his wand and twirled it with a dangerous spark lighting his gray irises, the wooden length spinning and looping between his dexterous grasp. "Now let's try this again. The words you’re looking for Potter are: why yes, Draco is exultingly perfect in all he endeavors."

  
Harry gave him a flat look as Pansy - or maybe it was Seamus, or maybe both actually - snorted behind them. "I must not tell lies." Harry replied as seriously as he possibly could, crossing his heart with two fingers and trying to ignore Draco's thumb that slipped up his shirt, touching his bare skin above his trousers and making his stomach flip. God but that felt excitingly good.  
  
"Shit Harry, that's morbid." Seamus wasn't looking at them, he was wiping the moister from his glass and flicking the wetness on his fingers at Luna with a goofy smile. But Harry barely heard him along with whatever Luna's response was, his world zeroing in on Draco - on his face with the familiar sneer curling his lips and his eyes sparking dark with flecks of blue and gold around the edges, on his finger touching him, brushing his skin without the other even noticing it. Bating Draco was never a good idea and he had once ended up with his hair grown down to his toes that refused to be cut for an entire week for a simple off handed comment that Harry had been stupid enough to keep drawing out.   
  
But he couldn't help it. Draco always drew near when they were arguing, whether in jest - like now - or for real, like when Harry had accidentally spilled the man's entire bottle of cologne that had been imported from Spain. He shuddered at the memory then promptly felt another shiver pass down his spine as Draco tugged on his belt loop with a feral smirk and tapped his wand against the counter top. Near the food Harry had just made. Oh damn.  
  
"You wouldn't dare." Harry knew his voice sounded too soft, his fingers curling around the edge of the counter.  
  
"Wouldn't I?" Draco countered and Harry wondered if it was normal for his breath to be getting lodged in his throat. He had a feeling that it wasn't, that normal people didn't get all flustered when a friend threatened their cooking while standing too close. But then none of his other friends ever grabbed his belt loops and glowered down at him like this either.  
  
_Don't go there_ , he told himself firmly, that line of thought was sure to lead to getting his heart stomped on and broken.   
  
"Seriously? Already?" Ron's voice pried at Harry's attention, pulling him from his racing thoughts, and he peeked over Draco's shoulder to see his best mate trudge into the kitchen, a six pack of beer clutched tightly at his side and an incredulous look on his face.  
  
Pansy nodded. "Something about salad."  
  
"No it was about who cooked. Or if Draco was...what was it again?" Seamus emptied his lager and banged the glass back on the table before lifting it with a little wiggle in Ron's direction and a pointed look at the beer in his possession.  
  
"No, setting the house on fire." Pansy sounded bored but she was getting up and walking with a swing to her hips to the fridge, pulling it open and withdrawing the mixed salad Harry had prepared earlier. "Potter implied that Draco is useless in the kitchen basically. Not untrue, after all." She dropped the bowl on the table and plucked a spinach leaf from the top, popping it into her mouth with an annoyed look on her face. "But whatever, just let him go Draco. I'm famished."  
  
"Say it." Draco insisted, ignoring their friends and lifting one dark blonde eyebrow.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes before reaching up a hand and condescendingly patting Draco on the cheek. "You're a wonder in the kitchen Draco dear, I'd be lost without you."  
  
"Merlin kill me now." Pansy groused.  
  
"Very sweet Harry." Luna chimed in, smiling up at Ron as the redhead joined them at the magically enlarged table.   
  
"Ugh, don't call him _Draco dear_ , that's just creepy." Seamus grumbled with an exaggerated shudder.  
  
"And don't you forget it." Draco smirked before glancing down to where his finger was twisted through Harry's trousers, his hand giving an experimental pull and chuckling deep in his throat when the material stretched out too far with a little jerk of Harry's hips. "Rubbish Potter, best toss them in the bin after tonight." He winked and let go, his gait languid and sure as he plucked up his wine glass and joined their friends at the table.   
  
Harry slouched back against the counter as he tried to smother a smile, his hand rubbing self-consciously against the back of his neck and a blush pricking up his cheeks when Ron glanced up and caught his eye with a knowing little look. He blinked and shook his head, turning quickly and gathering up the dishes he'd prepared and thanking Luna as she helped him spread it out across the dining table. Draco flicked his wand with a careless grace and everyone tilted to the side as plates sailed smoothly into place, cutlery appearing beside them with another twist of his wrist and Harry smiled at him with a happy warmth in his stomach as they all settled down and dug in.  
  
Dinner at their place had become a near weekly habit over the past few months, their numbers changing depending on the day and time and Ron and Hermione usually had to take turns - one of them staying home with their baby son on nights Molly couldn't watch him. Pansy was typically always in attendance and Harry thought that maybe she was still a little miffed that Draco had moved out from her place and in with him but she seemed friendly enough and he was growing steadily more fond of her - of her brash attitude and cool indifference. Seamus had been coming around more and more since Dean had moved to America to study art for a year and on a rare night Blaise Zabini or Theodor Nott even ended up showing up - though Harry wasn't all too sure how much they even got along with Draco. It seemed a strange sort of friendship but Harry wasn't one to judge and Draco wasn't one to divulge. There was no pattern to when Luna came - she was there as often as she wasn't but Harry was always delighted when he opened his door to find her staring off into the front garden with her wispy voice going on about some sort of creature he had never heard of and was fairly sure didn't exist.  
  
They talked about work, about quidditch, flinging crass jokes about on nights Hermione wasn't there, and Pansy taking the piss out of Draco whenever she got the chance. Harry loved it, every little second of it, he loved having everyone near, loved cooking for them and having their help washing up, loved the cadence of voices that crested and fell in a comforting wave. He loved looking up and finding Draco sitting across from him, watching him smile in an unguarded way when he caught Harry's eye - it felt secret, it felt like someone was pressing on his chest and stilling his air when Draco's attention was caught by someone else and his smile dropped back into a courtesy expression of polite interest.   
  
His house felt alive when everyone was squeezed into the kitchen and his heart swelled with fondness and wonder that he had ended up so lucky. They were an odd group to be sure and often bickered and fought after a drink or two filled their bellies. But they had all survived and found this, a little slice of time to share their lives and it was perfect.  
  
"Alright, who’s up for Bond?" Draco dropped his napkin down onto the table before picking up his wine glass, his eyes skipping around the table in question.

Harry set down his fork and felt a laugh rumble quietly in his chest. While Draco still seemed weary of the television set he had oddly enough latched onto any and all James Bond flicks like a true fanboy, a smile plastered on his face nearly the entire film and making Harry's heart clench in fondness as he watched him from the corner of his eye. Merlin he was cute when watching Bond, he always seemed to fear for the man's life, no matter that Bond always escaped and the ridiculous gadgets fascinated him like he was a giddy little kid - or Arthur Weasley.

 

"Bond?" Pansy wrinkled her nose and tipped her head in confusion.

 

"Count me in!" Seamus grinned. "God I love those movies."

 

"It's a movie?" Pansy asked, glancing back and forth between Draco and Seamus.

 

"Movies." Ron corrected, pushing his plate away that looked like it had been licked clean. "And I'd like to but I need to get going, Mione is expecting me."

 

"What's a movie? Is it some sort of game?" Luna asked and Harry glanced at her in surprise.

 

"No, it's something you watch, a bit like a play." Harry explained. "But in the living room, on the telly."

 

"Merlin, is nobody going to tell me what Bond is?" Pansy grumbled, off put from being ignored.

 

"He's a character. James Bond 007." Seamus nodded giddily, popping the top off another lager and refilling his glass. "Word class spy and all around ladies man."

 

Draco made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat as he moved away and deposited his dish in the sink. "He's sexy as fuck, now who’s up to watching him strut about? And Finnigan you can't possibly drink that while Bond is on."

 

Seamus narrowed his eyes at his beer and shot Draco a confused look. "Why?"

 

"Tell him Harry." Draco grumbled, his voice distant and annoyed, like he couldn't be bothered to degrade himself enough to answer.

 

"Not classy enough." Harry explained with a chuckle. "So are we making martinis then?" He asked, watching as Draco strode to the cupboard in the corner and pulled down a metal shaker.

 

"Of course." Draco replied flippantly like the answer was perfectly obvious, because according to the blonde one could simply _not_ watch Bond without a martini - shaken, mind, not stirred.

 

"Brilliant." Seamus jumped from his seat and started helping Draco gather the ingredients as Pansy grumbled that she might be persuaded to stay as long as whatever-his-name-was, was actually as sexy as fuck.

 

"I got to get going." Ron leaned towards Harry, his sharp blue eyes bouncing towards Draco and Seamus gathered at the counter as the blonde started measuring out vodka into the shaker. He looked like he was about to say more but in the next second he was smiling at Harry once more and rising smoothly from his chair. "See you tomorrow yeah?"

 

Harry smiled and nodded, bidding his friend goodbye with a clap on his shoulder. Then Ron was gone and he was pulled into a conversation with Luna about her latest research, his eyes straying to the counter - watching without trying to as Draco peeled the lemon into perfect little curls, his gray eyes glancing back and catching Harry's with a mischievous little smirk on his lips as Seamus jabbered in his ear.


	2. An Unfortunate Return

 

"Firstly, this thing? Utterly useless." Draco dropped dramatically down onto Harry's bed, propping himself up on his side with his elbow and tossing the once neat box that housed the electric tin opener onto the bed - the cardboard on the top ripped to shreds with the sides barely holding it together.  
  
"Told you." Harry murmured as he turned the page in the novel he was trying to read, not that he was having much success mind. He blamed his inability to concentrate not on his horribly long and tedious work day filled with endless paper work but solely on Draco and his flatmates odd tendency to sing muggle pop songs to himself as he prepared himself for going out. The blonde had a surprisingly good singing voice, even off pitched as he was fifty percent of the time. "What were you trying to do with it anyway?" He peeked over the side of his book to catch a glimpse of the man lounging next to him and damn if he didn't look perfect. God had dealt Malfoy a card unlike any other and when the man put all his focus on looking hot...Harry swallowed thickly and looked blankly back at the page before him.   
  
"Open a tin, what do you think?" Draco drawled before reaching out and snatching Harry's glasses from his nose. "Merlin your lenses are nothing but one gigantic smudge, don't you ever clean them properly?"   
  
Harry blinked, trying to keep the other man in focus as Draco wiped the lenses on his shirt tail. "Of course I do and what tin? Were you trying to cook?"  
  
Draco snickered and shook his head before jamming the glasses back on Harry's face. "Fuck no, that's what I have you for. I just wanted to see how it worked...I think I may have melted something though..."  
  
Harry sighed and dropped the book onto his lap with his thumb holding his spot. "Melted? How the hell did you manage to actually melt something?"  
  
Draco shrugged nonchalantly as he picked at the bedspread, his fingers pulling the fibers from the thick blanket. "Wasn't my fault, the damnable thing malfunctioned."  
  
"Sure it did." Harry shook his head, thumbing the edge of his book idly. "Are you leaving soon?"  
  
"Mhmm." He nodded, flicking the little pile of fibers with his finger and watching as they went tumbling across the bedspread. "Good book?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "It's alright."  
  
"Not a gripping page turner?"  
  
"No."  
  
"No crazy hermit desire to see what happens next?"  
  
"Erm?"  
  
"I'll take that as a no. In that case I have a proposition for you." Draco swung up onto his knees, his black jeans stretched impossibly tight over his sinewy thighs. "I've decided I'm not in the mood for a pub. Too loud for my head today."  
  
"Hung over already?" Harry smirked and ducked as Draco went to smack him upside the head.  
  
"No you dimwit. Work was abysmal today and I spent the afternoon fending off idiots who didn't know anything about how to brew properly and I don't feel like fighting off another wave of drooling idiots again tonight. So I was thinking we could do Thai and then maybe -"  
  
"I'm having dinner at Ron and Hermione's." Harry interrupted him, something that felt suspiciously like regret pooling in his gut. It was silly, he spent most week nights with Draco, he shouldn't feel upset over the fact that he wasn't going to get to go out with him. That they weren't going to go to dinner with Draco wearing those insane jeans and that icy gray button up that matched his eyes. That there would be no walk back with Draco harping in his ear and shoving his hands in Harry's pockets. "Do you want to come?" He registered what he had asked moments later, his teeth biting into his cheek as he watched Draco mull the idea over.   
  
"Weasley dinner? Will the drooling one be there?"  
  
"You mean their son? Yeah, I'd imagine so." Harry chuckled and hoped the other man would say yes simply so he could witness Hugo trying to crawl up Draco's leg as the blonde attempted to discreetly shake him off with a look of horror on his pale face.   
  
"Can we get drinks first?"  
  
"I don't think we'll have time."   
  
"After?"  
  
"I have to work tomorrow."  
  
"God Potter, you're not decrepit, surely you can stay out past sunset on occasion?"  
  
Harry smiled despite himself, Draco's snotty tone along with the haughty curve of his lips always managing to do funny things to his nerves. "Alright, if your good."  
  
"If I'm good?" Draco snorted, shuffling his way towards Harry with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Harry found himself holding his breath as Draco neared, his stomach doing that terrible flipping thing when his flatmate grasped his chin and tipped his head up - his skin igniting beneath the sure, cool touch. "What are you going to do? Spank me if I talk back to the weasel?" His tone dipped low, a deep gravel that Harry rarely heard from him, the sound driving straight through him and making blood swell in his ears and rush south in an instant as Harry stared hopelessly up at him. "Kinky Potter, who knew you had it in you." He patted his cheek as his lips morphed from a smirk into a laughing smile and before Harry could blink and process all the sensations coursing through him, Draco was bouncing off the bed and snatching Harry's book from his hands.  
  
"Fucking demented Malfoy." Harry grumbled - trying to discreetly catch his breath and calm his heartbeat, his fingers curling into the blanket at his side.  
  
Draco raised a single eyebrow. "I'm not the one with the punishment fetish."  
  
"What - I, no...what?!" Harry felt his face flame, heat pouring through him in waves. It wasn't helping that he could still smell Draco like he was hovering over him still, his hand on his face, his lips dripping that deep rumble - speaking words that conjured impossible images.   
  
"Calm down Potter, I'm joking, now get me a shirt will you?"   
  
Harry blinked stupidly as Draco started plucking at the buttons of his shirt, each little one that slipped from its confines revealing a trail of luminous skin. He swallowed and looked away. "What's wrong with what you're wearing?"   
  
Draco paused and sent him a sharp look. "It's Hermes."  
  
"Erm?"   
  
Rolling his eyes, Draco shrugged the shirt from his shoulders and carefully folded the material in his hands. "I am not subjecting it to the drool and spit up fest that is the Weasley humble abode. Really all my things are too nice to be put through such trauma, so in short, get me a shirt Potter because yours are already a disaster."  
  
"You're still so stuck up, you know?" Harry grumbled, tossing Draco one of his nicer button ups - a soft blue that he knew from prior experience offset Draco's pale skin beautifully.   
  
Draco caught it and grinned. "Part of my charm."  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
Draco's face was turning bright red, washing like a rising wave up his neck and curling all the way around his ears.   
  
Harry could see it all the way from his perch in the kitchen, his hands methodically wiping down the wet dishes as Hermione handed them to him. The former Slytherin was seated primly on Ron's faded, velvet crimson armchair - a glass of scotch cradled worryingly in his hands as he shook his leg in a futile attempt to divert Hugo's adamant attention. The little boy had his spit soaked fingers tangled in Draco's (Harry's actually) trousers, his ruddy face giggling up at the blonde like they were engaged in a loving game.  
  
If only the child knew that Draco was seconds away from punting him like a football.  
  
Ron was being absolutely no help, either not noticing Draco's outright discomfort or deciding to blatantly ignoring it. Harry smiled as he stacked the newest clean dish atop the others and decided that it was probably the latter.   
  
"Your son already has a thirst for danger." Harry mused, his eyes drifting back up from his godson trying to climb up Draco's leg to the man's face. There was nothing soft about the blonde and even though the years had aged him kindly, his sharp angles had only seemed to grow - his angular jaw, his steep cheekbones, the drastic curve of his collarbone, and bend of his elbows. He was like a painting made up entirely of straight lines - jutting hipbones that peeked out of his sleep pants and low slung jeans, ribs that Harry could count and a flat plane of a stomach that tapered down sharply from his hard chest. His legs were strong, two thick lines with slim muscles, bending knobby at the knees before flowing down to sharp shins and bony ankles. Even the curve of his pink lips were sharp, puckered harshly when he was annoyed or angry, his slate gray eyes a slit of revulsion.  
  
Harry loved to make them round nearly as much as he loved to make him smile that big smile he rarely showed anyone, to make something break from the sharp, angular lines that made him up. He had wondered - aimlessly, obsessively, for hours on end - what Draco would feel like under his hands. If he'd feel as sharp as he looked or if there would be a hidden softness - a secret gentleness. Draco never sounded gentle when he was with his lovers. He sounded as wicked as his tongue always was, just as hard. Harry couldn't help but wonder what it would take to melt those moans into submission, into something that broke...  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Mhmm?" He blinked and pried his eyes from Draco who was now trying to shoo Hugo away with little flicks of his slim wrists.  
  
"I asked why you thought my son was turning into a little you?"  
  
Harry shifted against the counter top as he wiped his hands on the kitchen towel, drying them of the dish water that had made his skin prune at the tips. "Why does a penchant for danger equal a mini me?"  
  
Hermione glanced over her shoulder into the living room, her gaze falling lovingly on her son who was being belligerently stubborn in trying to engage Draco. "Oh I don't know Harry, penchant for danger, pawing at Malfoy..."  
  
Harry threw his towel at her. "Haha."  
  
"Suppose I should go rescue him, wouldn't want poor little Hugo to follow too closely in his uncle's footsteps." Harry's smile died slowly on his lips as she turned to look at him, leveling him with a steady gaze that made her words feel heavy and hurtful. "Not to mention the age difference would be rather appalling by the time he's old enough, but it starts young doesn't it?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked quietly, the weak attempt at a joke doing nothing to disguise the nature behind what she was getting at.   
  
She sighed and finished drying her own hands. "It’s not that I don't like Draco, I do, but we invited _you_ to dinner, not him."  
  
Harry felt a familiar discomfort crawl up his spine, spreading a blushing heat up his neck and into his cheeks before he could stop it. "I firecalled and checked, you said to bring him along." He reminded her as he felt himself immediately go on the defensive, he had a feeling he knew where this was going and he wasn't in the mood for it.  
  
"That's not the point."  
  
"Then what is?" He ground out, the sound of Hugo laughing in that high pitched way only a baby can reaching his ears.

 

"The point is that you spend all your time with him, you bring him everywhere with you. You're basically settling down with a man who isn't even your partner and will probably never be. Do you honestly think that's healthy?"

 

"We're friends." Merlin he didn't know how many times he had to have this conversation, how many times he had to say it.

 

"But you like him." She whispered with a frustrated huff, like he was being purposely obstinate. "You love him."

 

Harry didn't answer, his chest squeezing tightly at her words as he looked at the floor. It hurt hearing them, because even though he had never admitted it aloud it was true. He did love Draco and each day he spent with him he felt himself falling a little further down the dark precipitous that was the grave yard of broken hearts that the blonde left in his wake. But he couldn't help it, he couldn't stop - what he had with him was better than nothing. Right?

 

She let out a soft noise, something that sounded like part pity, part annoyance, part sorrow. This wasn't the first time she had brought this up, but it had been awhile, the last time had been when Harry had to cancel his plans with her because he had somehow gotten sucked into an impromptu weekend trip to France. The memory almost made him smile - Draco had wanted chocolates ( _and not the rubbish in Diagon Potter, honestly_ ), though perhaps that had just been an excuse so he could flee from the rather persistent man he had been dating that week and somehow, amongst it all, Harry had ended up in a little hotel room in Paris. Sitting on a plush bed, watching a television program he couldn't understand, and eating an enormous array of confections with Draco lying next to him after a long day of sightseeing. Hermione had stared at him when he had gotten back like he had lost his mind, her arms crossed over her chest and her feet planted in her lecture stance.

 

"Look Harry, I understand, I do. It's just," she paused and glanced back into the living room, watching her son and her husband as Ron scooped up Hugo and swung him up onto his lap. She looked at them like they were her entire life and Harry knew they were, knew that even though Hermione was always busy - rushing about with a million projects - that her family would always come first. "What if Ron had never looked my way? What if after the war I had moved in with you two, just pining away after him, for years, just wasting my life away on hoping...would you honestly let me do that?"

 

"I'm not wasting my life on him." He grumbled, looking away from the expression on Hermione's face. He was happy in his life, in his job, he loved his friends and all the times they shared. But sometimes if he was honest, if he allowed himself to really think, well, it hurt a little - holding Hugo, playing with Teddy. Sometimes seeing Ron and Hermione, and Bill and Fleur, and Ginny and Neville all settled and happy was like a knife to the gut that he liked to pretend never cut him.

 

He wondered if perhaps he wasn't as good at hiding it as he thought.

 

"Are you going on dates? Are you putting yourself out there?" She pried, this time a little more softly then before and Harry had to force himself to keep from snapping at her. He knew she meant well, that she kept pressing because she cared deeply for him, that she wanted for him what he wanted for himself.

 

Harry's jaw tightened as he shook his head softly, unable to look up and meet her eye. He hadn't been on a date in over a year and the last few he had been on had been nothing short of a disaster - leaving him feeling hollow and wanting. He knew what the problem was, he knew his dates all fell hopelessly short because he kept comparing them all to a certain blonde. He knew he needed to stop and get out there, to try and find someone but he _had_ _someone_ and...Merlin he was fucked. Maybe Hermione had a point, maybe he was wasting his life away on a hopeless desire. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his throat tighten, the ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach rolling at the thought.

 

"Oi Harry, get in here, I want to whoop your arse at chess before it gets too late!" Ron hollered, peeking his head into the kitchen, Hugo's thick fingers combing through his hair and making it stand on end.

 

"Yeah, coming." Harry smiled tightly at him as he glanced up briefly - just long enough to see the confusion and understanding rush across Ron's face as he looked between them. With a long, silent look at Hermione, Ron nodded once and was gone - his boisterous voice commanding Draco to fetch the board and to prepare himself for a vicious defeat. "I should..." He shifted awkwardly, unsure how to end the conversation. What could he say even?

 

Hermione nodded and pulled him into a quick hug that made him feel even more jittery and tangled up inside. "Just think about it Harry. Okay? It might be time to cut the cord." 

 

 

 

 

****

  
  
  
Three hours later - after Ron had won two rounds, Draco had won three, and because Harry was still as pants at chess as he had been at Hogwarts hadn't won any - they had bade goodbye and found their way to one of Draco's favorite pubs. A quiet place that he usually reserved for nights out with Harry or other close friends with high backed booths running around the circular wall and waitresses dressed all in black that handed you black leather menu's with dirty white parchment and inky scrawls of ink describing their drink and food options in elaborate loops and dips.  
  
Draco sat across from him, his long slim fingers holding his glass of Merlot, a trace of humor on his lips as he retold the story of a particularly dim witch that had come into his shop earlier that day. His voice was low, just loud enough to tangle itself around the gentle hum of background music - his free hand brushing his hair back from his forehead, curling a lock behind his ear despite the fact that his hair was too short for it to ever stay back for long. He was still wearing Harry's clothes (much to Draco's chagrin, but he had simply refused to go all the way back home simply so the blonde could change) and there was a slight discoloration on the pale blue collar - a rounded mark, dripping just a bit, the material scrunched around the neck in a way that only Hugo ever managed when he finally made it up onto Draco's lap.  
  
Harry smiled at it and tried to push down the anxious wave of thoughts and feelings that Hermione's talk had stirred in him. He had spent too much time that night watching Draco with Hugo, watching the man try to dissuade his attention as he glanced both helplessly and accusingly at Harry, how he had finally huffed and settled the child's weight on his lap, how his arm had shot out to keep the chubby boy from falling as Hugo made a swipe for something on the table. He was still picturing in a corner of his mind the pointed look on Hermione's face when Draco sat himself on the floor next to Harry later on in the evening, nudging Hugo onto Harry's legs and then instead of retreating after the successful transfer he had just stayed there - sitting right next to him and grudgingly letting the boy grab his finger or bat at his hair.  
  
It felt a little like...  
  
Not quite what Ron and Hermione had, but close. Merlin it felt so close.  
  
And he wanted that, he always had, since a very young age. He wanted that deep connection and belonging - he wanted to wake up with the same person every morning and fight over whose turn it was to buy the milk and make love on lazy Saturdays before sharing the newspaper over pancakes. But the problem was that Harry had a portion of it - he had a deep connection and the milk fights and the newspaper sharing and someone he could come home to and god it was good...but it was _only_ a portion, it wasn't a whole. Draco wasn't his - body, heart, and soul - he didn't belong to him. Not like Harry wanted him to, not like Harry already feared he belonged to the Potion's Master.  
  
Leaving their home, with Ron's arm looped around Hermione's shoulders, had made him feel bitter. He hated Hermione for bringing his situation up, for putting words to his hopeless circumstance, and he felt like he was going to have a full blown mini melt down when Draco snagged his arm and shoved his hand in Harry's jacket pocket - muttering about how fucking freezing it was and how he smelt like baby now which was _just not acceptable._  
  
But he kept it together, had managed not to shove Draco off nor pull him into an unexpected kiss, had told himself to get over it and to enjoy the night. And he was - mostly.  
  
"You're oddly quiet."  
  
Harry glanced up into Draco's face and felt his shoulders lift in a shrug as he lifted his glass to take a drink before thinking better of it and placing it back on the table. God knew he was too close to saying something he would regret as it was, best not tempt fate by adding more alcohol to the mix.  
  
"Ducat for your thoughts?" Draco tipped his head and leaned his elbow the table, his chin cradled in the curve of his palm with his delicate wrist disappearing into the slightly too big cuff of his shirt.  
  
Harry laughed, shaking his head as he toyed with his glass. "It's penny, penny for your thoughts."  
  
Draco wrinkled his nose, cutting two deep lines across his forehead in the process. "What in heaven's name would you want a penny for?"  
  
"No, it's the...never mind. It's nothing, I'm just...have a lot on my mind."  
  
"Obviously." Draco tapped his glass and considered him for a moment. "You've been off since after dinner. So come on, out with it, before I smack that dumbfounded look off your face instead."  
  
Harry stared back at him and wondered if perhaps he was being a coward. Ron thought that he should go for it. Hermione thought he needed to either give him up or ask him out. Draco looked sharp and guarded even now in the dim light of the pub, his skin so pale, glowing in the splashes of light from the streetlamp out the window and flickering candle at their table and Harry's hand was still warm from where Draco had curled his fingers inside his an hour ago. But...Draco wasn't shy about his sexuality, about what he wanted, and he had never come on to Harry. Not once. It was all just friendly touches that were perhaps a little too close for most people but then...they weren't most people were they? They never had been.

_You'll never know unless you go for it_. Harry swallowed and cursed his own shacking nerves.  
  
"Do you ever think about...you know, settling down, someday?" Harry felt like the words left his tongue in a helpless sputter and he was suddenly terribly grateful for the low lighting as it helped to hide the blush staining his cheeks at his own awkwardness. But it was a safe question right? Hypothetical and set in the future, nothing hinting outright that Harry wanted Draco to settle down with _him_.  
  
Draco looked taken aback and Harry couldn't blame him. They didn't talk about things like that, barely did they ever even speak about Draco's never ending string of flings or Harry's lack of them. "The Weasley brood leave you feeling domestic Potter?"  
  
Harry shrugged and picked at his glass. "I don't know...maybe. Don't you ever think about it?"  
  
"About finding _the one_?" Draco's lips and voice curled around the last two words like they were something vile and foul, like they were something that shouldn't have to have ever been on his tongue for even a second.   
  
"Yeah...I mean, why not?" He tried to ignore the sliver of ice that penetrated his heart at Draco's sneer, his eyes skirting down to his still mostly full drink. "I think it would be nice, having something like that."  
  
"You mean a family, children?" Draco clarified and Harry glanced up to see him watching him closely.  
  
"Maybe, not necessarily."  
  
Draco chuckled lightly and took a small drink. "Trust me Harry, you want children, you want their grubby hands and dirty faces and disgusting spit covered clothes."  
  
Harry smiled softly at the thought - his traitorous brain bringing to mind the image of him and Draco sitting on the floor with Hugo playing on their legs. He could so easily turn the little boy into a blonde hair, green eyed child, could imagine Draco tipping his chin up for a sweet lingering kiss as the little boy busied himself with some toy. "Yeah I guess. Don't you, maybe?"  
  
"No and not only because adoption would be messy with my history but I don't relish the thought of all my time being sucked up by a snot eating little money grubber."  
  
"Money grubber?" Harry laughed and watched as something softened, oh so very slightly, in Draco's face. "Alright so no kids, but you could still settle down? If you found the right person?"  
  
Draco sat back, his hands dropping into his lap. "Potter, is this your way of telling me that I need to find a new place because you've met someone with whom you wish to share mundane, domestic bliss?"

 

"What?" Harry asked alarmed, uncertain how Draco could have possibly drawn that conclusion. "No, it's just been something I've been thinking about is all and well...you asked..." The other man was quiet for a long moment in which Harry felt his insides twist up tightly, his heart pounding too loudly for his chest to bare as he tried to breath normally, to look back at Draco like there was nothing raging in his heart - making sure that he wouldn't be able to guess what this had all really been about.

 

"Indeed I did. So I suppose...if truth be told Harry, I don't subscribe to the idea that there's one person out there for everyone. Not everyone is destined to have a soul mate. Call it draw of the luck, cosmic per-destiny, whatever you will, but some of us are fated to wander this life alone."

 

They felt like bitter words shrouded in nonchalance, cast with ambivalence, but Harry wasn't sure if that was him just projecting his own desires atop Draco's speech or if there was something more the blonde wasn't saying. "Us?" He repeated softly. Draco's gray eyes were dark in the flickering light and fixed on his, quietly daring Harry to disagree, to try and persuade him differently, to say something that he wouldn't be able to come back from. He licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed through his parched throat. "Does that mean that you -"

 

"Draco?"

 

The blondes name was spoken quietly, a calm voice that sounded as if it never reached a louder pitch and as Harry's head turned to take in the man who had interrupted them, Draco breathed out a breathy " _shit_ ," and Harry felt a nervous thought prick at the back of his mind. The man standing at the their table wasn't looking at Harry, his bright brown eyes staring at Draco with what could only be described as elation - like Draco was the sun and he had been trudging through the bowels of the earth for years.

 

Harry couldn't read the look on Draco's face - everything about him a hard covering shell, an exoskeleton of smooth, porcelain skin and drastic angles, prickly just to look at and sharp to the touch. Then something cracked, a tiny fissure that started around his eyes which blinked a little too rapidly, his throat moving visibly before he was opening his pink lips. "Ethan," he said without any inflection - just a flat name on his tongue like it held no meaning but Harry recognized the name from long ago and pinning it alongside the taut line of Draco's shoulders and expression Harry felt his stomach sink.

 

 _Ethan_.

 

He had never met the man but he knew of him, he had been Draco's boyfriend when he and Harry had first started getting along years ago. As far as Harry knew they had dated exclusively for over a year, perhaps two, the details were vague - Draco didn't talk about him and Harry didn't want to ask. He could remember the day they broke up though - they had been sitting in a little sandwich shop when Draco told him, stating that Ethan was taking an apprenticeship in Germany, and that was it, Draco never mentioned him again, their line of connection snipped and wiped from Draco's mind and vocabulary. Harry could remember how his stomach had done a funny little flip at the news as he bit into his food, at the time uncertain just what the feeling that was spreading through him was. But it was warm and it was giddy and it didn't take long for Harry to pinpoint the emotions that were causing it.

 

He felt his eyes narrow on their own as he glanced back up at the man, taking him in and setting him alongside the picture Harry had sculpted in his head. Ethan didn't look anything like Harry imaged he would, he didn't even look anything close to any of Draco's frequent flings - he was tall and lanky, his legs too long for his torso, his hands unsteady by his sides as they slipped in and out and in and out of the pockets on his pressed forest green slacks with an ironed crease down the middle. His dishwater blonde hair was a riotous thick mess blown across his high forehead, freckles spreading across his thin nose in small brown and red flecks, a pair of thin wired spectacles folded neatly in the breast pocket of his gray vest. 

 

"It's so great to see you, I was hoping that maybe..." Ethan smiled charmingly, his lips thinning and revealing large white teeth a little crooked in the front, and waved his twitchy hand like he couldn't think of the proper word to finish up his thought.

 

Draco nodded slowly, glancing briefly at Harry before settling his gaze back up at his former partner. "When did you come back?"

 

Ink stained fingers threaded through Ethan's wild hair as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Yeah, maybe a week ago? Moved into my sister’s attic till I can find a place. God Draco, I just..." he was grinning again, a childish, joyous grin that lit up his entire face. "Can I buy you a drink, we can talk and catch up?"

 

"I..." Draco glanced at Harry again, this time Ethan's eyes following his gaze with a startled jerk as he noticed Harry for the first time - his wide smile faltering for a second.

 

"Go ahead." Harry answered Draco's silent question as he tried to keep from shifting uncomfortably under both their stares, unsure if that was the right move to make or not - but he had no claim on Draco, there was no legitimate reason for him to try and run Ethan off other than the fact that he hated him already. Deeply, deeply hated him - more than he had hated any of Draco's one night stands. He smiled tightly as Draco leveled him with a steady look before saying goodbye, taking his wine and following Ethan into the crowd - the pair of them disappearing moments later with Ethan's hand touching, so very lightly, the small of Draco's back as Harry's heart sunk like lead in his chest.


	3. Five Steps

 

 

Harry awoke the next morning to the smell of pancakes. It was a thick, warm scent that curled around him, tickling his nose and making his stomach growl before his eyes were even open, his mind and body still in that delusional space between sleeping and waking where everything was light and fuzzy and uncomplicated. He had been having a marvelous dream, naked legs tangled with his, lips on his cheek, a hand holding his, and a groggy morning lilt in his ear as he flipped pancakes on the hob and Draco read the paper out loud to him. His lips twitched into a smile as he stretched, his back arching and arms reaching up against his pillow. He couldn't remember the last time he had awoken to a freshly made breakfast and it felt like his dream had somehow merged into reality, that he'd trudge from his bed and find a blonde holding a spatula in one hand and bottle of syrup in the other in his kitchen.

 

Rolling over with his arm reaching towards his glasses, Harry paused, his brain catching up with the morning light and reminding him that he lived with _Draco Malfoy_. Who never cooked alone and when he did it always produced gallons of smoke and loud curses, not the lazy scent of well-made pancakes. Along with the realization came the memory of last night - of their interrupted conversation by an evil man in shabby professor clothing. Harry had stayed up well into the night waiting for the sound of the door opening but he must have drifted off before Draco had returned.

 

Jabbing his spectacles onto his nose, Harry slipped out of bed with a dead sort of weight pressing on his chest as he told himself not to jump to any conclusions yet. He had no facts, only ideas whirling quickly in his head, but he wasn't sure he wanted to find out which ones were true or not. He stared at his doorknob for a full minute before cursing himself, pulling it open, and padding cautiously down the hall.

 

The first thing he noticed was that there was a pile of neatly folded blankets sitting beneath a pillow on the couch and a pair of sleek dress shoes aligned perfectly beneath the coffee table. The second was that there was humming coming from the kitchen - a soft rumble that didn't sound anything like his flatmate. There was something scratchy about the sound that offset the sizzle of butter in a pan and the screech of cast iron connecting against metal. He faltered in indecision, his body half turned towards the kitchen, half towards fleeing back to his room and owling in sick to work simply so he didn't have to interact with the man _cooking_ in _his_ kitchen.

 

That was Harry's job, damn it.

 

He took a step, the floorboards beneath the worn carpet groaned, and Harry's eyes slipped shut as he heard all the noise pause in the kitchen.

 

"Draco?" Ethan appeared in the archway a moment later, his smile faltering just slightly at the sight of Harry in his white tee and checked pajama bottoms. "Oh, sorry. Hi." He wiped his hand on the apron ( _Harry's_ apron) tied around him before sticking it out towards him. "I'm Ethan, you must be Harry right?"

 

"Er." He clasped his hand automatically, the man's fingers thin and bony but strong.

 

"Draco mentioned you had a thing for pancakes, I made plenty, if you'd like...?" Ethan was wearing the spectacles that had been resting in his pocket last night, the delicate frames sitting neatly on his nose that had a smudge of flour on it.

 

"Okay." Harry nodded and hated the way his stomach twisted as Ethan smiled broadly and wiped his hand compulsively on the apron once more.

 

"Great! Great, I admit I can't find the syrup. Do you have some? Or does he not eat syrup anymore? Surely he doesn't power sugar the top, or maybe strawberries, but you don't have any of those either -"

 

"We have syrup. I'll get it." Harry cut him off, watching the way Ethan's clear eyes unfocused slightly during his rambling question. He paused for a moment before following the man into the kitchen, his gaze quickly skipping over the flour dusted counter top, the milk container sitting open beside a bowl sticky with thick batter, and a plate piled high with pancakes to the right of the hob. The counter opposite the sink was covered with ingredient boxes - a bag of flour, the little orange box of baking soda, an almost empty egg carton...

 

God, the man was a messier cook than even him.

 

Ethan was already pouring another spoon full of batter into the warm pan and Harry averted his eyes as he dug out the syrup from the back of the cupboard and snatched the bag of coffee while he was at it. He felt horribly awkward, knowing that he should probably say something - Ethan was a guest in his own home after all - but he couldn't for the life of him think of anything other than, " _so, did you fuck Draco last night?_ " or, " _just what the hell are you doing back in London?_ " And there was no way in hell he could actually ask either of those.

 

Though he hoped that the pile of blankets on the couch meant what he thought they might.

 

Spooning the grounds into the french press, Harry filled the kettle and cleared his throat nervously as he placed it on the back hob with Ethan scooting over to make room for him. "So...is Draco up yet?"

 

Ethan nodded as he flipped the pancake - the damn thing a perfect golden brown. "I believe so, I heard the shower a bit ago at any rate."

 

Harry nodded and dragged a hand through his hair as he backed up a step. "Right...okay, so...I'll be back, just gonna, get ready..."

 

Ethan glanced back at him with a smile and a wave of the spatula. "Okay, I'll keep them warm."

 

He all but ran from the kitchen, his hand jittery in his hair, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he tried to sort his thoughts. He felt oddly enough like a rug had been pulled out from under him, like he had somehow been replaced in the blink of an eye. Which was ridiculous. He was still Draco's friend. Was still his flatmate. And it wasn't like Ethan was going to be around every morning using Harry's apron and spatula, right? The man was a snippet of Draco's past, not his present or his future. Draco never moved backwards, everything in his life was a forward momentum swing. Ethan had been cut from his life years ago, this thing - whatever it was that had him making breakfast in their home - was fleeting. Perhaps Draco had just been struck with uncharacteristic nostalgia last night.

 

"Have you forgotten how to knock?"

 

Harry startled, his jerk sending the door to the bathroom banging shut behind him. "Draco?" He wrinkled his brow as he took in the other man sitting on the edge of the bath - his hair styled neatly, his black trousers cuffed around his ankles and his shirt tailored just right without a wrinkle in sight, his boots already on his feet and laces carefully tied. There was a ripped box at his feet, the packaging bright green with jarring blue letters Harry couldn't make out, his pale fingers wrapped around some unknown object - holding it in an absentminded way. In fact, despite his perfectly put together appearance, everything about him seemed absentminded. The confidence that was normally ever present on his face and in the way he held his shoulders somehow gone, leaving him looking hopelessly distracted or perhaps thoughtfully troubled. "What are you doing in here?"

 

"What does it look like?"

 

"Hiding." Harry stated as he moved to the washbasin and grabbed his toothbrush, wondering what had happened last night to be making Draco Malfoy of all people hide in the bathroom. Draco never hid from things anymore, he faced them down and snipped them away without a thought. "You do realize that Ethan is out there making enough pancakes to feed a small army."

 

Draco snorted and Harry glanced back at him in the mirror as he squeezed a drop of toothpaste onto the bristles. "Not surprising."

 

"For you maybe." Harry grumbled, jamming the brush in his mouth and scrubbing at his molars a tad too roughly. "He's making a right mess."

 

"Coming from you that's a rather terrifying statement."

 

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed mockingly as best he could around his toothbrush, which really wasn't much, the sound coming out muffled and off balance. "Are you planning on joining him anytime soon or are you just waiting in here until he uses up all our flour and eggs?"

 

"I'm not finished in here yet." Draco appeared beside him, smirking at him as he hopped atop the small counter stretching to the left of the basin, his back leaning nonchalantly against the mirror as he watched him.

 

Harry just raised an eyebrow, looking the blonde up and down slowly in a pointed manner, but there was funny little flutter in his stomach at the thought of Draco hiding away from his ex for whatever reason - choosing instead to chat nonsense with Harry as he brushed his teeth. He was trying desperately not to smile stupidly when he finally caught onto the movement between Draco's bent knees, his long fingers messing around with a sleek object that looked terribly familiar and left him feeling more than a tad nervous. Hadn't he talked Draco out of that particular purchase?

 

The other man caught him looking and smiled - a real smile, that big grin that made Harry all twisted up inside instantly. "Like it?"

 

"Erm."

 

"Got it yesterday, what do you reckon?" He inched towards Harry, waving the dangerous looking thing in his face.

 

"No." Harry shook his head and scrubbed his teeth harder, suddenly feeling like maybe sharing the bathroom with Draco that morning wasn't such a wise idea.

 

"Oh come on, it's perfectly safe."

 

"Like hell it is." Harry grumbled, twisting his neck back and out of the way, his words slurring slightly around his toothbrush as he batted at Draco's hand that was nearing his face. "Move, I need to spit."

 

Draco leaned to the side as he flipped the tap on in the washbasin. "What's the worst that could happen?" He asked as Harry ducked his head and rinsed out his mouth. "I read all the instructions this time and everything."

 

"No." Harry wiped his mouth on the towel and knocked Draco's dangling legs aside so he could pry the top drawer open, his hand sneaking inside to fish around for the minty flos _s._

 

"Merlin just use the spell Harry, it's far more effective and efficient." Draco rested back against the mirror, an annoyed twist to his lips as Harry ignored him and pulled out the long florescent white string. "Not to mention less revolting."

 

Raising a single eyebrow, Harry wound the floss around his pointer fingers until it was taut between his hands. "Seriously? First off, you do realize that you just made an argument against yourself, because there is a rather quick and simple spell for that too, one I'm rather good at considering I use it every damn day. And secondly, you don't have to watch you know, no one’s making you hog the counter while I get ready. So get out and go eat twenty pancakes."

 

Draco scoffed, his foot kicking the cupboard beneath him. "Everyone knows you’re helpless without me Potter and look, it buzzes! No seriously, listen...hear that? That's three dual action razors working in synchronized fashion."

 

"Draco."

 

"Mhmm?" The blonde perked back up, his back straightening and legs stilling, and Harry had to smother a smile because god, having the other man sitting on the bathroom counter while he was trying to get ready for the day and talking his ear off shouldn't have made him feel all warm inside. Especially when said blonde had a new purchase in his hands with his ex destroying their kitchen down the hall.

 

"You're not coming anywhere near me with that."

 

"I could just immobilize you."

 

"No."

 

"Tackle you? Hold you down and slather soap all over your face?"

 

"Fucking nuts and don't you dare."

 

"Killjoy." Draco pouted, looking thoroughly putout with a manic gleam in his frosted gray eyes. It was annoying how hard it was to say _no_ to him, even when what he wanted was completely out of the question for several reasons. One being that Draco was never able to work muggle gadgets correctly and always ended up ruining something. And two, well...Harry wasn't sure his nerves could take being that close to Draco, to have the blonde grasp his face, to have him lean close and focus solely on his chin and cheeks - carefully skirting just shy of his lip and scrapping down his throat. He could vividly picture the look of concentration that would overtake Draco's face, how he'd tip his head and bite the corner of his lip, how his breath might feel against his skin with his fingers guiding Harry's face however he needed.

 

Harry sighed as a shiver passed down his spine and deposited the used floss into the bin, mentally reminding himself to steal all of Draco's muggle money and have it converted back into wizarding currency.

 

"You know, prominent men of wealth used to have other people shave them all the time, it was a sign of good standing and trust. And they used straightedge razors back then, this is completely harmless in comparison."

 

Harry chucked and washed his hands. "Why don't you just try it out on yourself if it's completely harmless then?"

 

"Fuck no, my features are far too refined to be subjected to such a test."

 

"Oh but mine aren't?" Harry crossed his arms and propped his hip against the edge of the basin, eyeing Draco as the other man fiddled with the large electric razor in his hand.

 

Draco shrugged and ran his thumb up Harry's rough face that was thick with morning stubble - it scratched against the grain and Harry hoped he couldn't hear or see the hitch that stuttered in his chest. "You've got that rugged thing going for you. Manly and all that rot. Plus I promise to stop and heal you when something goes wrong."

 

"When?"

 

"If." Draco corrected himself with an impatient wave of his hand. "I promise to stop and heal you _if_ something goes wrong. Which it won't. So come here, chin up." He flicked the razor back on, the muffled buzz filling the air, his hand snatching the front of Harry's shirt just as he managed to grasp the doorknob and twist - the wood swinging open a crack. 

 

"Damn it Malfoy, just go use Ethan as your guinea pig." He tried prying at Draco's fingers but the man had an annoyingly strong grasp, and he found himself stumbling a step towards him with a muttered curse. "Seriously, it can be his punishment for ruining my kitchen."

 

"I highly doubt the kitchen is _ruined_." Draco drawled. "And you like pancakes, so stop complaining. Now come on, this is supposed to be revolutionizing the shaving experience." Letting go of Harry's shirt, he quickly grasped the back of the darker man’s neck, the tips of his fingers threading through the thick raven curls as he tugged him closer until Harry found himself standing stupidly between Draco's spread knees.

 

God this was getting too close to his fantasies for comfort. It felt too real, his heart picking up speed in his chest as he sucked in a breath and wondered if it was possible to go mad from a simple electric shave. He could easily picture himself leaning closer, his eyes slipping shut, soft lips touching, hands grasping his waist and pulling him nearer with thighs pressing into his hips.

 

"Is that dumb look your consent perchance?" Draco murmured and Harry cursed inwardly as the man's cool fingers traced around his jaw line, tipping his chin up a fraction.

 

 _Fuck_. He was doomed and now Draco was probably going to accidentally slice his face up until he looked like a victim of a werewolf and Harry might just snap. He was going to close his eyes and kiss him, he was going to run his hand through his bright hair, and up his sinewy thigh as he worked to pull a moan from his throat...and Draco would probably pull back and level him with a disbelieving stare and then that would be it. The little slice of heaven he had would be gone, shattered and ruined and Harry probably wouldn't even have him as a friend anymore.

 

Because now Draco had Ethan to make him breakfast. The fucking bastard.

 

God, Hermione was right, he was settling down with a man that wasn't his and he feared that one day the blurry lines that separated fantasy from reality would snap and he'd do something he would regret.

 

"No." Harry said, jerking backwards too sharply and making Draco furrow his brow in confusion. "No, I...I'm late. I have to go." He bumped into the bath, his hand tugging at his curls as he looked anywhere but at Draco who was slipping from the counter with a question on his lips. "I'll see you later..." And then he fled, rushing to his room and throwing on the first pair of clean clothes he could find before Disappariting in a dizzying moment. He appeared in the alley across the street from the Ministry, his forehead banging into the wall of the building next to him as he tried to still his rapidly beating heart.

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

 

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling him into a one armed hug as she shifted Hugo on her hip. "This is a surprise." She pulled back and smiled at him as Hugo made a swipe for Harry's arm, her lips turning down as she studied him. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing." Harry smiled at his godson, holding his arms out and shifting him onto his own hip. "Hey buddy." He ruffled the boy's thick shock of hair and followed his frowning friend inside their cozy little home. Harry loved everything about his friend’s house, he loved the little herb garden out back, he loved the squeaky swing on the porch, he loved the books that spilled out of their shelving and the few pieces of quidditch paraphernalia that Ron had managed to sneak out into the lounge. He loved the kitchen that smelled like sandwiches and the wooden toys that littered the floor haphazardly. Their home felt like a warm blanket on a cold day.

 

"Sit." Hermione instructed as they passed the couch. "I'll make tea then we'll talk."

 

Dropping down onto the floor with Hugo, Harry let go of the boy and smiled fondly as he lunged immediately for his favorite blue ball. He listened distractedly to the sound of Hermione moving about the kitchen as Hugo batted the ball across the floor before crawling right after it with a giggle. He knew the moment she returned that she would want an explanation but the problem was that Harry wasn't sure how to voice it. He felt like something was squeezing vice like around his heart, a hollow dread in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn't as if anything had actually changed.

 

Except perhaps his hope. His foolish, foolish hope that he barely realized he had been clinging to. His hope that one day Draco would look at him differently, that the string of flings would end, and he could have that domestic bliss that made the blonde sneer distastefully. His damn hope that kept him from going on dates and trying to find someone else. His stupid hope that felt like it was finally shattering inside him.

 

It wasn't even about Ethan - well, not fully away - it was the fact that Harry had been standing between Draco Malfoy's spread legs with his face in his hand and the blonde had only wanted to test out his latest muggle acquisition on him. Harry had been a hairs breath away from kissing him and the other man had only smirked and set the damn thing buzzing again. And as the day wore on Harry had come to the realization that this was _it_. It wasn't going anywhere. Draco was probably going to get back together with Ethan and if he didn't then he would go back to his flings and Harry...Harry wanted him so bad it hurt.

 

He wanted to be the only man in his life. He wanted all their firsts to be both of their last times having firsts for the rest of their lives. He wanted not just a rented flat but an actual home like Ron and Hermione's with him. He wanted to grow old with him, to be together when their hair started receding and their bodies softened and their eyesight waned. He wanted to make love to him, softly, for hours.

 

His eyes were stinging when Hermione made her way back into the lounge, a tray balanced on her hand that she set carefully down on the table. "Alright, tell me what's going on." She ordered as she sat down beside him on the floor, her back angling against the couch as she looked at him.

 

He closed his eyes and shook his head, suddenly horribly embarrassed as a damn broke within him, leaking past his eyelids and making it hard to breathe. It was foolish, so very foolish - crying over something that had never even been his. "I just -" his voice broke and he bit his cheek. "I just...I love him." The words throbbed in his chest, burning his tongue and making large drops sear their way down his cheeks in wet tracks. "I love him." He didn't know why he was repeating himself, why it felt important to finally admit it out loud if only to someone who already knew.

 

"Harry, it's okay." She spoke softly, scooting closer until he could feel her arms wrap around him.

 

He shook his head and grasped her shoulders, his wet facing turning into her bushy hair. "No, it's not."

 

"You're right." She squeezed him tighter, her voice quiet but strong, determined. "It's not okay, it hurts, I know it does Harry, but it will be okay. Alright? We'll find a way. We always do."

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

Harry awoke to the sound of pots banging, Hugo laughing, and Ron whispering to his son with a loving warmth that seeped into his sleep addled mind. He blinked and rubbed at his puffy, salt encrusted eyes, cursing himself for what felt like the millionth time that day in embarrassment as he remembered that he had basically cried himself to sleep on Hermione's shoulder. He struggled to sit up beneath the blankets covering him, his head throbbing and body soar, his eyesight blurry as he glanced around himself. God he just wanted to curl into a ball and pass back out, to shut off his mind so he didn't have to think anymore.

 

"You're up, good!" Hermione beamed down at him as he rubbed at his eyes once more, her voice much too loud for his groggy mind to process. He must look like hell and he knew it was stupid to hope that Ron hadn't noticed that his best mate had been crying over another man on his couch. "Here, read this." She instructed, holding out his glasses in one hand and a sheet of parchment in the other.

 

"What's this?" His hands felt weak as he took his glasses and slipped them onto his nose before reaching for the parchment that was filled with Hermione's neat scrawl.

 

"It's the plan."

 

"The plan?"

 

She nodded and grinned, tapping the title that she had written out in flourishing letters. "Your five step plan to seduce one Draco Malfoy."

 

"I thought...I thought you wanted me to start dating other people." Harry felt like a fish out of water all over again, blinking down at the list unseeingly because surely...well surely Hermione didn't honestly want him to go after Draco did she? She had been the one trying to get him to give him up for months, she had been a sound voice a reason that he had refused to listen to until now. And yet now that he had finally admitted his awful situation she was switching gears so suddenly that he felt slightly dizzy. God, this made no sense.

 

She nodded, that creepily large grin still on her lips. "Precisely, that's part of step two."

 

"...Step two? But I thought -"  


"Harry." She held up a hand to stop him and he snapped his mouth closed because he honestly had no idea what he had been intending to say anyway. "You want Malfoy right?" He nodded and she smirked. "So here's the plan, follow it carefully and if by the end he's still not interested then you can move on knowing that you gave it your all. No regrets."

  
Harry looked back down at the parchment, wondering how on earth it was possible to make Draco his in just five little steps but then...Hermione had always been amazing at devising plans. He smiled softly, something warm blooming beneath the pain in his body. "Alright. No regrets." He agreed, sure he was more than a little mad for going along with this and that he'd probably end up crying his eyes out on her couch all over again by the end of it but if there was chance - no matter how slim - that he could have Draco...well, then he'd be foolish not to give it a shot.  


Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little late, time got away from me this week, but I hope you all enjoy it!


	4. Nuances of Touch

  
  
Three days later and Harry was no longer too sure about Hermione's plan. It seemed ridiculous now that his head had cleared from his unexpected bout of bawling his eyes out like some love sick schoolgirl. God he felt horribly pathetic, and now here he was, laying on the couch after skiving off work early and eating ice cream right out of the container with a soup spoon just to complete the pitiful picture. Ron insisted that he was just in a funk and that he'd come out of it sooner rather than later but Harry was rather convinced at the moment that he'd probably stay in said slump until a certain someone stopped invading his life.  
  
It was all Ethan's fault.  
  
Fucking Ethan with his stuttering speech patterns and skin that smelled like old books and handshake that seemed just as distracted as his eyes always projected. God damn Ethan with his princely smile and uncomplicated history and blowing back into town and taking Draco to dinner so Harry had to eat by himself the last few nights. Shitty Ethan with his hand that touched Draco's like it belonged there, with his too tall body that didn't fit quite right in their door frame and his annoying ability to fix the remote control before Harry could get to it.  
  
Not to mention, how the fuck was he supposed to do any of Hermione's steps if Draco was never around without the git?  It was in that moment, when Harry felt both like crying all over again and beating the day lights out of a man who, really, was much too nice to hate as vehemently as he did, that the fireplace roared - the flames throwing high and turning bright green. Harry turned his head dejectedly towards it as he fit the spoon in his mouth and balanced the half empty carton on his stomach. If Ethan stepped out of those flames Harry was going to flog him with his sticky spoon.   
  
"Pansy's throwing a party." Draco announced as he swept through the floo, his long fingers brushing thoughtlessly across his robes as he stepped into the room.  
  
Harry grunted and jammed another bite of freezing cream into his mouth - staring at the fireplace until the flames died back down and didn't spit out a second person.  
  
"Eloquent as ever Potter." He dropped his briefcase on the table before snatching the carton from Harry's hands and nudging his legs to the side so he could plop down next to him. "What is this, caramel?"  
  
"And Chocolate." Harry shifted and handed the other man the spoon.  
  
"Interesting." Draco muttered after taking a small bite. "Anyway, as I was saying, Pansy's having a party. It's a costume sort of thing, muggle pop culture is the theme I believe."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow as he dragged himself up into a sitting potion, tugging uselessly at his horribly wrinkled shirt and abandoning trying to manage his hair seconds into attempting to finger his way through the knots. "It's muggle themed? Since when does Pansy like anything muggle?" He flicked his wand and caught the spoon that came sailing his way a moment later - the newly acquired utensil dipping immediately into the carton to shovel out another bite.  
  
Draco shrugged as he pulled the spoon from his mouth thoughtfully. "It's gitchy apparently."  
  
"Since when is muggle gitchy?"  
  
"Fuck if I know."   
  
Harry nodded as he stared down at his empty spoon and tried to gather his elusive courage. Draco had been gone so much lately Harry felt like he had barely seen him and now that he was back, sitting so close their shoulders knocked whenever they moved to scoop a bite from the carton Draco still held in his possession, it was time to give Hermione's plan a go. No regrets right? And step one was touching - which at first Harry had thought was odd considering that they touched frequently, but then his studious friend had pointed out that it was _Draco_ who was always initiating it, the one who always grabbed his arm or looped his shoulder or touched his hand. According to Hermione, Harry needed to get him to start thinking about him in a sexual manner and apparently touching him was supposed to help accomplish that...somehow.   
  
Course that was easier when they were arguing or messing about or cooking or cleaning or playing a pickup game of quidditch...really any circumstance beside Harry sitting there and _thinking_ about it was easier.  
  
He swallowed thickly, pushing his cumbersome thoughts away and slid his leg an inch closer, pressing it alongside the other man's as he hid the action in his attempt to scoop up a particularly caramel laden chunk of ice cream. He felt like a spectacular idiot already.  
  
"You taking Ethan?" He asked around his mouthful as he watched carefully for any sort of reaction from Draco in regards to the fact that he could now feel the man's thigh - tight and warm and god, he shouldn't be this nervous already.  
  
But there was none, the other either uncaring that they were pressed together or simply didn't notice, or maybe it wasn't enough of a move after all - because honestly this was nothing really. Though it was hard to think what would be. Did she expect him to randomly try to hold his hand at dinner? To just lay down on top of him the next time the man refused to budge over? Though...that last one wouldn't exactly be new either...Harry could still remember that cold winter day when Draco had returned from his parents in a foul mood. How he had swept from the floo, cursing under his breath and stalking up and down the hall before finally noticing Harry curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets as he watched the telly. He had just blinked at him quietly and Harry had been a second away from asking what was wrong but then Draco was shucking off his cloak and shoes and slipping under the blankets with him - fitting his back to Harry's front without a word.  
  
They fell asleep like that, watching some program Harry couldn't remember without muttering a single word to each other. It had been the best night sleep he could remember ever having - to have someone that close, to be curled around another warm body, to feel the rise and fall of their chest, it had been heaven.   
  
"No." Draco shook his head and took another bite without any further elaboration. "And in a stroke of genius I had this afternoon, I've already got our costumes picked out."  
  
Harry paused with his spoon in his mouth as he cocked his head and gazed quizzically at the other. "You do?"  
  
Draco grinned and turned towards him as he balanced the carton on his knee with one hand. "You're going to be Bond."  
  
"What?"  
  
"James Bond, everyone's favorite hero, its perfect!"  
  
"Me? Why aren't you going to go as Bond? You're the one that's in love with him."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, like the answer was obvious and Harry was more than a little dense for asking such a thing. "I can't be Bond, he's the hero, I'm going to be the good looking villain." He explained, then with a manic sort of grin, he was depositing the carton on the table and pulling a small lime green squirt gun from his pocket as he sat up on his knees, sneering down at Harry with one eye narrowed threateningly - or at least Harry assumed it was supposed to be threatening. "I shall be your downfall Mr. Bond." He intoned in a terrible Russian accent that Harry couldn't help but smile at as the other man leveled the water gun at his face.  
  
"I don't recall any of the male villains being good looking." Harry pointed out while trying to smother his blasted grin.  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger, lukewarm water hitting Harry's cheek and splattering his lenses. "There's a first for everything and it's about time Bond stopped chasing skirts don't you think?"  
  
"I don't think you can turn Bond gay Draco." Harry laughed, shielding his face as the blonde growled and pumped the trigger in rapid succession. "Fuck, cut it out!"  
  
The sound that came out of Draco's mouth was a truly terrible, over the top, evil laugh. "Come on Harry, you got to do better than that. Bond would never try to end a fight by whining." Slipping from the couch, Draco walked slowly backwards as he dug something out of his pocket before shedding the robes from his body in one fluid flourish. The black garment fanned out, billowing through the air and around Draco's limbs before floating delicately to the ground - leaving Harry staring stupidly after it and wondering how the hell he had even managed such a move. But then he didn't have time to further contemplate it because Draco was tossing him a small blue squirt gun with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Even ground now Mr. Bond, what are you going to do?" He challenged in that ridiculous accent again, his water gun leveled at Harry once more, his arm held straight out with one foot planted solidly behind him - a classic dueling stance like he was moments away from flinging a curse at him.  
  
Then he moved and Harry dived off the couch, rolling on the ground with a little laugh before springing up on his knees and firing his measure of water at the other man. He missed and with a smirk Draco started to monologue in the way that truly terrible villains did in old movies - telling him every evil plan he had and how he was going to depose of Harry as they moved through the flat, squirting water at each other and diving through doorways and hiding behind tables and bookcases.  
  
Harry didn't know why it was quite so much fun, it was terribly juvenile and yet he couldn't stop grinning, Draco's ridiculous speech and every time he almost got hit making him feel lighter than he had all week. He felt nearly giddy by the time he slipped into the kitchen with his breath fast in his chest and splashes of water running across him. He heard Draco's feet coming up fast behind him and he'd nearly made it past the table and to his intended hiding spot when a hand caught his wrist - spinning him with his own momentum as something caught his ankle and sent him crashing to the tiled floor with an, "oomph!" His squirt gun skidding away from him and under the fridge.  
  
"Surrender Mr. Bond." Draco grinned victoriously, his knees planted on either side of Harry's hips as he stared down at him with the toy gun inches from the darker man's nose. His blonde hair was falling in haphazard waves in his face, his pale cheeks flushed, and sometime during the encounter he had shed his outer shirt, leaving him clad in a slightly too tight black undershirt which only added to the illusion that Draco had morphed into some evil, hired muscle. It made Harry's heart beat something fierce and made him wonder if perhaps pulling him down and snogging him breathless was a little too much for _step one touching_. "Join the dark side or meet your maker."  
  
Harry tried not to smile as he worked to figure out a way out of his loss and _not_ concentrate on the fact that he had the other man straddling his lap while looking like he'd popped out of some spy film. "The dark side? You're getting mixed up, that's Star Wars."  
  
Draco's brow furrowed but his aim remained steady. "Star what?"  
  
"It's a film series, you'll like it, probably become a Han Solo nutter."   
  
"Is he fit?"  
  
"Oh very." Harry grinned, laughing inwardly as he watched Draco debate with himself - trying to decide no doubt if he wanted to go see this Star Wars thing now or if he wanted to have a proper finish to their impromptu battle.  
  
"Yes well, we'll discuss this Solo later, now concentrate Potter!"  
  
"Right, sorry. So..." He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly, his blood pumping hot in his veins, his giddy spirit driving him higher, and pressing him forward. _No regrets_ , he repeated to himself. "This would be the part where Bond would kiss his sexy nemesis and escape if I recall." He prayed to Merlin that the flush was already on his cheeks from all their running about as he slipped his hands onto Draco's firm thighs, his fingers moving up in minuscule movements, his skin itching to go higher, to press harder. "I mean, your goal was to turn him gay right?"  
  
"What?" Draco's eyes rounded so very slightly, his pink mouth dropping open a fraction in surprise, softening his face just the smallest amount, and stealing Harry's breath as the man's firm aim faltered, wavering slightly.  
  
Harry grasped his wrist during the man's moment of stunned disbelief and twisted the gun from his hand as he surged upwards - his arm wrapping around Draco's waist as his free hand grabbed the back of his head and yanked him towards him. The gasp that left Draco's lips lit a fire in Harry's belly seconds before he was turning his face and licking a wet stripe up the side of the blondes face, his lips lingering a moment too long on his cheek bone as he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes.   
  
_Fuck_.  
  
"Ugh! Potter!" Draco groused, squirming in his arms.  
  
"I win." Harry grinned, pulling back to look up into Draco's face as he lightly pressed the squirt gun against the blonde's temple. "Bond always wins." He intoned lowly, knowing his impersonation was horribly off but it was worth it to see the smile twitch on Draco's lips as he crossed his arms and sat back on Harry's thighs - his cheek glistening with Harry's spit.  
  
"I demand a rematch."  
  
"Too late, I won."  
  
"You cheated."  
  
"No, I was crafty." Harry winked.  
  
Draco snorted, shaking his head in a way that seemed rather _fond_ to Harry, like maybe he didn't think him so much an idiot as enduring. "I hate to break it to you Potter, but face licking isn't crafty, it's just disgusting."  
  
Shrugging, Harry wiggled the water gun against Draco's temple. "Regardless, I still won, now surrender or I'll soak your head until your hair is one gigantic curl."  
  
"Don't you dare, Pansy's going to be here soon."  
  
Cocking his head, Harry considered the blonde for a moment before biting his lip and grinning. "You mean she hasn't met curly haired Draco? She hasn't had the absolute pleasure of seeing you all -"  
  
"I'll fucking do worse than lick you if you finish that thought." Draco threatened dangerously and Harry had a feeling he truly meant it. The other man detested the natural wave that overtook his hair the moment water dampened it for reasons Harry couldn't fathom - because Merlin, Draco looked beyond sexy with his hair all wild. He loved catching Draco in the morning before the man could tame it with a spell, his eyes sleepy and locks a soft riot and voice gruff.  
  
"I like curly haired Draco." He retorted without thinking, hoping the moment the words left his lips that they sounded casual and perhaps a bit mocking, like he hadn't just admitted anything and was simply continuing on in their bickering.  
  
"Shut up." He grumbled.  
  
"No really, you're just so cute." Harry snickered as the other man slipped off his lap and flipped him the finger. "You're right, sorry, not cute. Sexy. You're dead sexy, we all should be so lucky."  
  
"Damn right." Draco shot back at him as he swept from the kitchen, his feet padding down the hall before disappearing into his bedroom with a shout over his shoulder. "Now go get ready, you look like you've been moping in bed all day."  
  
Harry smiled at the empty air despite the fact that Draco had just said that he looked like shit as he remained sitting on the kitchen floor with the squirt gun in hand, something warm spreading through his body and a blush on his cheeks.   
  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
"So?" Hermione was grinning, her hand on his elbow as she leaned close to whisper over the steady thump of music all around them.  
  
"So...?" Harry raised an eyebrow and dipped his head towards her, straining his ears to hear her softly spoken words.  
  
" _So_ , how's it going? With Draco?"  
  
"Oh." Harry blushed and glanced down at the nearly empty drink in his hand as he shifted awkwardly in his chair. This really wasn't the time or place to be discussing her _five step plan of seduction_. Not with Pansy sitting across from them and chatting with Seamus and Luna, not with Ron on Harry's other side (who was clearly trying to listen without appearing so), and most definitely _not_ with Draco and Theo Nott walking calmly back towards their table with their hands full of drinks. "It's um...good? We had a water gun fight before coming here actually."  
  
Her eyebrows knitted themselves together as she studied his face. "A water gun fight?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"How is that part of step one?"  
  
"He erm...ended up on my lap." Hermione stared at him and Harry scratched the back of his neck as he kept his gaze from catching with Ron's while trying to flee from hers. Fuck, there was no escape. "...And I may have, licked his face...possibly."   
  
"His face?" Ron quipped, knocking his shoulder into his. "Why?"  
  
"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" He muttered, knowing that it came out sounding more like a question than anything else but while sitting pinned beneath his two best friends stares it was getting harder to remember exactly why he had thought that had been a good idea in the first place. But having Draco that close - in his arms, on his fucking lap - had apparently severed any and all brain functions, whittling him down into a useless puddle once more. Though now it seemed slightly pathetic that he had ended up wanking frantically afterwards, his eyes shut tight and reliving the softness of Draco's cheek and the breath that had puffed out against him with that wonderful weight over and around him - picturing the blondes beautiful flushed complexion and blinking eyes when Harry pulled back with the others lips so very close to his own. "I won." He tacked on lamely. "The fight, that is..."  
  
Hermione sighed quietly, glancing quickly at Pansy who was still engrossed with something Seamus was saying before shifting even closer to him and sharing a brief telepathic exchange with her husband. He hated when they did that, made him feel like a child about to get reprimanded by his parents. "Harry...that's not exactly what I had in mind." Her hand was back on his arm, touching light and hesitant, like she was afraid he was going to break with the news that he was shit at flirting.  
  
"Yeah, you don't _lick anything_ before the first date." Ron explained with a chuckle.  
  
"I know." He grumbled and wanted to knock his head against the table as Draco slipped into the empty spot next to Pansy across from him, a reserved smile on his lips as he handed Harry his drink.  
  
"Know what?" Draco asked, resting his elbow against the table as he leaned towards them.  
  
"Where's my drink?" Pansy demanded, her stubby finger raised in the air to halt Seamus mid-sentence as she turned an accusing glare on her friend and thus saving Harry from having to think up a satisfying answer in a split second. Which was rather impossible, given that Draco was smiling, and flushed in the hot room, and the flash of light over their heads made him glow like some sort of angelic being - not to mention that Harry had been in a dizzying state of mind since they had left their flat with Draco's arm looped through his and his voice chatting on about everything they would need to go shopping for to put together their costumes.  
  
Apparently a trip to the tailors was in his near future.  
  
"That nasty concoction you insist on sucking down comes with an abundance of sliced fruit and a miniature umbrella." Draco didn't bother even glancing at her as he answered with a disinterested air about him, his long fingers playing with the rim of his own glass that smelled strong and oaky.  
  
"So?" She demanded after the blonde failed to elaborate. "Where is it?"  
  
"It's at the bar." Draco drawled and glanced sideways at her. "I refuse to be seen with such an atrocity."  
  
Pansy's gaze turned incredulous as Seamus barked out a laugh and slouched onto the table so he could see and hear everyone properly. " _You_ refuse to be seen with it? You’re as fucking gay as they come Draco!"  
  
The blonde lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug as Seamus _oohed_ dramatically and Harry took a sip of his drink as he watched the exchange. "Which just solidifies the fact that I am the epitome of good taste."

"Can't argue that." Seamus chimed in, earning his own glare from Pansy and judging by his sudden wince, a quick kick to the shin under the table. "Well its true ain't it? Malfoy's got that posh thing going for him. Oozing money and sex."  
  
"Oozing?" Ron wrinkled his nose. "Why does that sound so disgusting?"

 

"Because it's a disgusting word." Harry piped in. "Nothing good is associated with oozing, makes me think of Care of Magical Creatures." He shuddered dramatically as his friends grouped around the table laughed, each no doubt thinking of their own misfortune in that class. Then Seamus launched into his own personal account of raising a Blasted Ended Skewert thirteen years ago which, despite the Gryffindor’s shared love for Hagrid, really just proved what a traumatic experience it had been for everyone involved.

 

The night passed with stories being shared around the table - drinks replenished and spilled, and laughs growing in pitch and frequency - and Harry was starting to think that maybe Hermione changing their weekly dinner at his house for a night out hadn't been such a bad idea, even if he still couldn't quite figure out the reason for it. Dinner at home was more intimate, closer quarters, usually followed by a movie with Draco sitting close - it was ideal for step one. Whereas the club - well Harry could move his foot he supposed and press it against Draco's under the table. He could go get the next round with the other man and maybe touch the small of his back...his stomach twisted at the thought because that seemed like it would be horribly obvious if he tried to do something like that.

 

That was the way Ethan touched Draco, the way the blondes flings touched him. Not Harry.

 

Though maybe...maybe, Harry could Apparate them back if he stopped drinking now. Maybe he could put on Stars Wars - he was sure he had a copy somewhere - and spread the woolly blanket Draco favored over their legs and move his hand...God he really was shit at this.

 

"Stop scowling at the table Harry." Hermione muttered at him with a nudge against his side.

 

"Sorry." He muttered, glancing quickly at Draco who was engaged in a quiet conversation with Nott. "It's just... _why_ are we here?"

 

Hermione grinned, a slow spreading smile that made Harry immediately regret his question because he had a feeling he was about to find out the answer right that second and that he wasn't going to like it. "Step one and two."

 

"Two?" Harry hissed, glancing around himself like a blind date was suddenly going to pop up out of the floor and whisk him off.

 

"Tomorrow Harry." She rolled her eyes before straightening her back and raising her voice just a little but loud enough to be heard across the table. "His name's Craig, very cute, dark hair and a charming smile. He's new to the department, just transferred from Archives I believe."

 

"What?" Harry croaked, his throat dry and the liquor heavy on his tongue as he took a drink. It was ridiculous perhaps but he hadn't actually thought that Hermione was going to literally set him up with someone, because...well fuck, he didn't want to go out on a blind date with Formally From Archives Craig. He didn't want to go out on a blind date with anyone.

 

"He wants to know if you like dancing?" She was still smiling and Harry shifted awkwardly as he felt Ron and Draco's eyes both slide to him simultaneously, like they could feel the discomfort rolling off him.

 

"Dancing? Harry doesn't dance." Draco was turned fully towards them now, his gaze jumping from Harry to Hermione with a question in his slate gray eyes.

 

"Should I tell him yes?" She asked as if she hadn't even heard him.

 

"Er, yeah?" Oh god, no, what was he saying?

 

"What?" Draco was looking at him incredulously like he couldn't possibly believe what he was hearing. "Potter, you've told me on numerous occasions that you'd rather be held under the cruciatus then join a dance floor."

 

"Erm."

 

"Great! He'll pick you up at eight o'clock." She beamed at him and Harry felt himself nod in agreement since his throat was much too tight to possibly speak at the moment. Fuck, why was he so nervous already? He could do this, he could go on the date, he could - well no, he couldn't actually dance, but he could try. 

 

"He? Who is _he_?" Draco demanded, his lip twitching in the frustrated way that is always did when he didn't have all the pieces to a puzzle.

  
"Craig." Hermione turned her smile on Draco, her entire stature composed and calm as she played her hand in a game that apparently she only held the cards to. Course Harry would have appreciated a heads up that she was going to spring a date on him tonight, maybe then he wouldn't feel so off kilter and like he was going to sweat through his shirt.  
  
"And who is Craig?" Draco's voice was tight and Harry blinked at him, something that fluttered warmly in his stomach attacking him at the narrowed curve of his eyebrows and slight frown on his lips. If Harry didn't know better he would think that Draco looked a tad...unnerved?   
  
"Harry's blind date." She answered without missing a beat. "Very sweet man, I think you'll really like him Harry."  
  
"Yeah, he's funny too, we had him over for dinner last week, just wait till you hear his stories, Merlin the things the guy's had to deal with!" Ron threw his arm over Harry's shoulders, his head leaning towards him as he knocked his glass against the one resting dumbly in Harry's hand. "Reckon you'll hit it right off."  
  
"A blind date?" Draco repeated, swerving his disbelieving gaze at Ron for a split second before settling once more on Harry. "You're going _dancing_ on a _blind date_?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Dancing." Draco stressed, staring him down.  
  
"Sounds like it."  
  
"Where?" The blonde asked as he looked over at Hermione.  
  
"I don't know he didn't say, probably some place fun, a bit like this club I'd imagine." She answered nonchalantly as she glanced thoughtfully around the large room. "In fact it would probably be wise of you to get some practice in Harry, it's been ages since you've been dancing hasn't it?"  
  
Ages was an understatement, it was closer to never, and if Harry was going to be entirely accurate then he'd be forced to admit that he had danced exactly once before. When he was fourteen. At the Yule Ball. And he was pretty sure people didn't dance in clubs while on dates like they did at the Triwizard Ball. "Yeah." He hedged, drowning his words in a long drink along with the growing unease in his stomach at the turn of conversation.  
  
"So it's perfect timing! This _is_ a wonderful song." She grinned.   
  
Harry really wanted to hate her in that moment as his ears picked up the steady thump of music - loud and fast. There was no way his feet could move to such a rhythm without him tripping and gashing his head on something...or someone. "I don't think -"  
  
"Best get to it Harry, don't want to embarrass yourself." Ron said and Harry glared at him, wishing very much that he could punch his mate for agreeing with his wife and sinking him deeper into the situation.  
  
"But -"  
  
"Go on." Hermione giggled - actually _giggled_ \- and pushed at his shoulder.   
  
"You -"  
  
"Their right Potter, if you insist on going along with this terrible travesty of an idea then you should at least warm up so you don't make a fool of yourself." Draco's long fingers were drumming thoughtfully on the table, his words low under the music and catching Harry off guard as he tried to keep himself from gaping. But then Draco was rising from his chair and staring expectantly down at him in his acid washed jeans and black cashmere sweater that slouched just a smidgen on the left - exposing a hint of his collar bone and slipping around the hallow of his milky throat, the sleeves just a little too long so they dropped down to the first knuckle of his thumbs. He somehow looked both cozy and fashionable, donning the attire in his effortless way that he wore everything with his bright hair messily tousled and gray eyes locked with Harry's.  
  
It was that very moment that Harry was forced to admit all over again that Hermione really was nothing shy of genius - her smile wide with a wink sent his way as Harry dragged himself from his chair, his heart beating strangely fast in his chest. It was hard to believe that she planned this whole night with the sole purpose of getting the two of them on the dance floor together but now that he thought about it, it seemed obvious, every little thing she had said and done all evening leading to this exact moment - Harry following Draco through the smattering of tables with the blondes fingers tangled thoughtlessly through his as he commanded his hands not to sweat.  
  
He wanted to ask how she knew how Draco would react to the news of Harry's impending date, how she knew that he would take it upon himself to teach Harry how to dance, how she knew that _he_ would even fucking agree to it. But they were at the edge of the dance floor now where the lights were dim with bright pops of color, the shafts of light moving like the floor was a living, breathing thing - a mass of multicolored bodies withering together, undulating like waves in an ocean. His palms started sweating rebelliously as he watched the men and women move in time to the beat, his feet stumbling as Draco gave a tug and led them to a spot halfway through the crowd.  
  
He gulped as Draco turned and looked at him, half the man's face in dark shadows, the other in blue tinged light and Harry bit his lip hard as his flatmate started moving his hips - tugging Harry closer and sliding his feet in a rhythm that the darker man couldn't comprehend let alone imitate. Draco was a born dancer, his lithe frame moving both elegantly and sensually seemingly without an ounce of effort. Harry had watched him so many times before, back when their friendship was still that fragile thing that didn't make any sense most of the time, he could remember sitting in the booth with his drink, staring at the blonde as he moved, relaxed and graceful. He had made him itch with the curve of his body bending to the music, had made his breath fast and a stupid smile spread over his lips as he watched him. Watching Draco dance had felt like touching a live wire - searing hot and blinding and it was even more intoxicating up close.  
  
"Relax Harry, you're stiff as a board. Here, put your arms around my neck." Draco smiled, dipping his head near to be heard over the music, his hand finding Harry's hip and grasping lightly.   
  
Harry sucked in a breath and did as he was told, his arms winding around Draco's shoulders and pulling himself nearer as the other man took hold of his other hip and started guiding him. "Like this?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound as breathless as he felt as his toes bump into Draco's, their chests nearly touching with the blondes hands on his hips burning into his skin.  
  
"A bit better." He chuckled, the sound rumbling between them, his breath ghosting over Harry's face as he turned his chin towards him. "God you really are awful at this, no wonder you stopped wanting to come out with me." One hand snaked around the small of Harry's back, pulling in a way that would bring them fully into contact if Harry decided to let it - his feet moving that half an inch before he could even weigh the consequences. But god, Draco's body was long and hard and sharp and hot, fitting against his as he was lead into each movement, each bend and step and twist guided by Draco's fingers and hips and feet as Harry grasped his shoulder and the back of his neck. "You have to stop thinking about it." Draco murmured into his ear, his fingers splaying down over his hip, and Harry's eyes fluttered closed. "It's all feeling."  
  
He could vaguely feel the press of others around them, the music dulling to the back of his mind as Harry hid a grin in Draco's shoulder, his mind buzzing with electricity as he felt himself drowning in all the sensations rushing through him all at once. He was hot all over, his heart a drum in his chest, beating loud, his fingers sliding through the silky soft hairs at the nape of Draco's neck, the other man’s scent wrapping around him as fingers rested against the band of Harry's trousers. He didn't know that dancing could feel like this, like they were an extension of each other, Harry still moving awkwardly and off balance but even still, it somehow felt utterly perfect.   
  
Perhaps that was why, the utter perfectness of the moment, that Harry didn't speak up and correct him. Some things were better left to lie and never be voiced and the fact that Harry had stopped coming out with him to clubs was because his stomach had started souring each night the blonde found himself tangled with some unknown man was one of those things. It didn't seem to matter in that moment, not with the closeness of the other man, pressed tight to _him_ and not some nameless bloke.   
  
The song finished and changed, the lights flicking yellow and red, and Harry felt the music thrum up through his legs, their bodies moving in tandem. He knew that Draco was a sensual dancer, just like almost everyone around them was, but the hands on his body felt so intimate, so real, causing the ache inside him to grow and grow and when Harry pulled back slightly and caught Draco's eye - the gray dark in the shifting light and his cheeks flushed pink - he had to swallow the words that pressed at his tongue. Instead he let his hand wander down Draco's back, fingers curling into the band of his trousers as Harry fought back against his better judgment and found his own rhythm.  
  
A rhythm that pressed against Draco in a rolling wave of heat and Harry felt himself fall apart a little bit more as he heard the blonde's breath hitch in his ear - the other man's hands grasping him tight and moving right back against him in perfect time.


	5. Stereo Murder and Blind Dates

  
  
  
The wind was bitterly cold, biting at Harry's skin in jagged slices as his feet touched back on solid ground - his fingers clad in thick leather gloves clutching tight to the handle of his broom as he propped the thick goggles that rested over his spectacles up onto his forehead.  
  
"Lovely weather." Ron grinned as he hoped off his own broom, shaking out his sopping red hair to land in freezing droplets on Harry's cheek. "Really Harry, you couldn't have picked a better day to go flying."  
  
Harry grinned and shouldered his broom as he started walking off the makeshift field, a swing in his step despite his frozen bones.  
  
"Oi, someone's in a good mood for the shite weather we've just been hurdling through." Ron caught up to him in two quick steps, his long legs moving gracefully through the mucky grass.  
  
"Yeah, guess I am." Harry shrugged. "Last night was fun, wasn't it?"  
  
Ron snorted and kicked at the clump of mud before squishing it under his boot. "Well, _you_ sure seemed to enjoy yourself, though I don't think you realize that as you and Malfoy danced for fucking hours I was forced to talk to Nott. I fucking hate that guy, he gives me the creeps, all those blank stares -"  
  
"Draco say's it's his thinking face." Harry interjected.  
  
"Whatever it is, it's creepy. And then you left, just up and abandoned me!"  
  
"You were with your wife and Seamus and Luna, hardly abandoned Ron." Harry laughed, rubbing a hand at the base of his neck and the tender muscles there from flying for so long in the cold. "Plus we said goodbye first."  
  
"We." The redhead shook his head, giving Harry an exasperated look as he dropped his broom into the boot of Harry's car. "You know Mione told me all about her five step plan but fuck Harry, you sure you two aren't already dating and you just don't know it?"  
  
"I think I'd know if Draco was my boyfriend." Knocking the mud from his boots, Harry slid into the car and twisted the key, the engine purring to life around him.  
  
"Don't be too sure." Ron dropped into the passenger seat as he pulled the gloves from his wet fingers. "What did you end up doing afterwards?"  
  
Harry gripped the steering wheel and smiled at the windshield. "We watched Star Wars." And Draco had loved it - well, he loved it after he had gotten over his exasperation at the presence of robots - just like Harry knew he would.  
  
"So you got drunk, felt each other up on the dance floor, then cuddled up for a movie marathon? And you're _sure_ you're not dating already?"  
  
"We weren't feeling each other up." Harry pointed out but his body started warming up just from the memory of Draco's touch, of the press of his body, the movement of his hips, and the grip of his strong fingers. By the end of the night he had lost count of how many songs they had danced to, his body moving on its own - nothing but feeling. He hadn't wanted it to end and probably would have stayed there in his arms until Armageddon if Draco hadn't eventually pulled back. If he hadn't stared down at Harry with a look in his dark eyes that Harry couldn't read and his arms around his waist before clearing his throat and stating that he needed a drink. Draco had led him through the throng of people with their fingers tangled together and something fiercely possessive and giddy had twisted through his stomach when the blonde hadn't wasted a second glance at a rather devilishly handsome man that tried to pull him into a dance before they could reach their table. "And there was no cuddling." Well...not really anyway, though Draco did end up with his head on Harry's shoulder sometime during the second film - because the other man was tired and a little tispy and Draco was a tad tactile while in such a state.  
  
"Sure there wasn't." Ron snickered.  
  
"Do you really want to be talking about this?" He asked, angling Ron a look before pulling the car onto the gravel road.  
  
Ron shrugged. "What can I say, I'm starved for excitement. What is it that Draco calls my home, a drool fest? Well he's not wrong, not that I don't love it, but you know...I miss adult conversations with people other than my older brother and getting to swear whenever the fuck I damn well want to."  
  
"Is that what you're doing, trying to hit your swearing quota for the week?"  
  
"Damn right."  
  
"By bringing up Mione's plan?" Harry watched Ron shrug from the corner of his eye as he turned onto the next street, a flick of his finger sending the windshield wipers flying across the glass - smearing the rain in great big streaks until Ron swished his wand and the water started balling up and rolling right off.  
  
"Why do you have a normal car again?"  
  
"Because I like it." Harry pointed out, batting Ron's wand aside before the man could cast anything else on his vehicle. "And I already have a flying motorbike so why would I need yet another way to fly through the air?"  
  
"It's not about _needs_ , Harry." Ron abandoned his wand and started fiddling with the dials on the dashboard.  
  
"Stop that, took me a week to sort it all back out after Draco messed about with it."  
  
Ron smirked and sat back with a huff. "Are you comparing me to that nutter?"  
  
"He's not a nutter."  
  
"Yes he is." Ron insisted and jabbed a finger at Harry's face. "Didn't he try to shave you? And last month, the blender incident? Merlin Harry, I don't get how you live with him, worse than my dad."  
  
"I think it’s kinda of cute." Harry mumbled, his wet feet starting to go numb in his boots as he pressed on the brake.  
  
"Course you do, you want in his pants."  
  
"Don't be crude." Harry grumbled but there was a smile prying at his lips and Harry couldn't help but feel more than content in that moment despite his soaked and freezing body. He didn't get to spend as much time alone with Ron these days as he would have liked with the man being a father and working with George at his shop. Sometimes he missed the days they lived together in Grimmauld Place, fighting off the dust that crept unceasingly into every nook and cranny and destroying the stairs in their indoor sledding experiments.  
  
"That wasn't crude, saying you want to fuck his white arse through the mattress is crude."  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Or that you want to throw him over your shoulder whenever he looks at another bloke and tie him to your bed to -"  
  
"Okay I get it! No need to elaborate."  
  
"Oh, like you haven't thought about doing it." Ron laughed and Harry shot him a grin that he couldn't smother, a violent shudder raking through the redhead at the sight of it. "Ugh, never mind, you're right I don't want to talk or think about this. My mind feels violated now."  
  
"You're own fault." Harry wiped a drop of water that fell from his hair onto his cheek away as he felt the laugh rumble out through his limbs. "I was perfectly content never to mention how much I want to shag him."  
  
"Ugh."  
  
"I think our first time will be a bit rough and fast but then maybe I'll take it slow after, you know really make love to him properly -"  
  
"Stop it Harry! You'll give me nightmares."  
  
" - Lay him down and kiss him all over and -"  
  
"I'm going to jump from this car and then you'll have to explain to the _mother_ of my _child_ why her husband was crushed to death."  
  
Harry burst out laughing as he gripped the wheel harder to keep himself reigned in. "Fine, fine, but you know I haven't properly gotten you back yet for telling me about your wedding night, I think I'm still suffering from post-traumatic stress from it."  
  
"Tell you what, you manage to pull this plan of yours and Hermione's off and you end up actually marrying the mental man then you can get me good and pissed and tell me all about yours. Deal?"  
  
Harry grinned and nodded. "Deal."  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
Upon opening the door to his flat with wet footprints trailing behind them, Harry was greeted to the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting crossed legged on the floor with a screwdriver in one hand, a metal chunk of something with wires sticking out of it in the other, and something that looked like it used to be their stereo lying in pieces on their coffee table.  
  
"What...?" He trailed off as Ron shouldered his way past him and swept into the room, his arms crossing over his chest as he stared down at the table.  
  
"Did it stop working?" Ron asked, his hand pulling on his chin, his head tipped in curiosity, like Draco was working on something extraordinarily fascinating.  
  
Draco set the piece down carefully. "No."  
  
Ron nodded, like that made perfect sense and plopped down on their couch.  
  
"What are you doing then?" Harry demanded, propping his broom against the wall before coming to stand beside Draco and their ruined stereo.  
  
"I wanted to see how it works." Draco explained. "There's a shit tone of wires." He twirled the screwdriver in his hand and glanced up at Harry. "And their all black, why aren't there any red and blue ones?" His forehead was creased as he furrowed his brow, like he was thoroughly confused over the reality that the inside of the device wasn't nearly as interesting as Draco thought it should be. Probably because he had thought it would look more like the inside of a bomb on the films they watched, with exaggerated counters on the top and multicolored wires that had to be snipped just right. Perhaps introducing the man to the world of electronic entertainment had been a horrid decision.  
  
"That's a good question." Ron nodded as Harry sighed exasperatedly.  
  
"Can you put it back together?" Harry asked, though even as the words left his lips, he already knew it was hopeless - they would have to go shopping for a new one tomorrow.  
  
Draco looked thoughtful for a moment as he glanced down at the pieces of the stereo before looking back up at Harry. "Doubtful, care to give it a shot with me though?" He asked, holding out a larger Phillips head screwdriver to him.  
  
Harry sighed as he took it and plopped down onto the floor next to him. "Are there instructions at least?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Course not." Harry grumbled, eyeing the pile of screws in front of them. "Why do you insist on dismantling all our electronics?"  
  
Draco shrugged as he poked at one of the poor black wires. "Why wouldn't I?"  
  
"Sound argument." Ron agreed somberly and Harry shot him a glare. "Ever take the telly apart Malfoy? My dad did that once, pretty interesting."  
  
Draco looked curiously behind him at the telly against the far wall, the screwdriver twirling absentmindedly between his fingers again, and Harry narrowed his eyes dangerously at his so called best mate. He really needed to find a better hiding spot for his tool box. "No, Draco don't touch the telly, I mean it."  
  
"Oh? You _mean it_ , do you?" Draco quirked an eyebrow and Harry's stomach sank as he realized his mistake seconds too late.  
  
"You take it apart and you can't watch the last Star Wars film." Harry pointed out and prayed his logic would work as he saw the idea flit across Draco's face, warring against his ever growing desire to take apart everything they owned at least twice.  
  
"Wait, you only watched two last night? How could you stop there?" Ron demanded, sitting forward a little on the couch as Harry remembered fondly the night he and Hermione had introduced Ron to the films and how he had squealed like a girl at the end of Empire Strikes Back.  
  
"Someone fell asleep." Draco accused, poking Harry in the side with his screwdriver. "Han has been frozen and shipped off to that nasty thing but no! No you couldn't possibly stay up just a little longer to make sure he's safe."  
  
"He's s-"  
  
"No! Don't you dare spoil it Potter or I will gut you!" Draco threatened with a murderous look pulling across his features.  
  
Harry snapped his lips shut as his mind very unhelpfully replayed Draco's reactions to the films last night. How he had fallen immediately for Han Solo, how he jumped whenever they came close to death, how he blinked and glared at the ships darting through the darkness of space, how he had grumbled about how utterly unrealistic it was because " _space is silent, everyone bloody well knows that_ " but then grinned like a loon when Han got his ship to jump into Light Speed. How his grip on Harry's arm had tightened and his breath had gotten loudly stuck in his throat as the renegade spaceman was lowered to his doom. A smile was threatening his face as Draco glared at him and Harry knew how dangerous it was to smile at the blonde when he was being snippy.  
  
"I'm ashamed of you right now Harry." Ron shook his head sadly.  
  
"Now see what you've done? Wealsey and I are _agreeing_." Draco grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest.  
  
"And it's a very unpleasant experience for us both." Ron added as Draco nodded in agreement.  
  
"Wait." Harry furrowed his brow as he glanced between the two men. "How is everything my fault all of a sudden? Draco's the one who ruined our stereo, we can't even watch anything without it, unless you want to try and lip read."  
  
Draco opened and shut his mouth, glaring down at the pieces before turning it on Harry. "Best get to fixing it then Potter, I want to watch it when you're finished." And with that Draco was sliding the screwdriver behind Harry's ear and rising from his spot on the floor - revealing the fact that the man was dressed in his black pajama bottoms and a silky button up, like he had started getting ready for the day before abandoning the endeavor to dismantle their sound system. "I need a coffee break."  
  
"Now that sounds brilliant." Ron grinned and followed Draco from the living room and into the kitchen where Harry could barely make out their voices as they moved about the space.  
  
He blinked after them, glancing at the dismembered thing and the screwdriver in his hand as he wondered how the fuck he had ended up with the duty of trying to fix it while they chatted in the kitchen.  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
  
Craig didn't take Harry dancing, for which he was eternally grateful, and it only took him all of five minutes to realize that the man had never even planned to in the first place. Instead Formally From Archives Craig took him to dinner at a cozy little Ethiopian place where they sat on soft cushions on the floor and had to eat with their fingers - which was much harder than it sounds, especially since most the food was prepared into some sort of paste type consistency and fucking hot. But it was delicious and spicy and Harry loved the sour, spongy bread you had to pretend was your spoon.  
  
Craig was nice. He smiled a lot, at everything really. He was a little shorter than Harry, with dark hair and muddy eyes and a scar that circled around his wrist and up the back of his hand from some sort of potions accident when he was younger. He cracked nearly as many jokes as Seamus in a single hour but also genuinely seemed interested in getting to know Harry, asking question after question as if he hadn't ever heard the name Harry Potter before despite the fact that he'd moved to England years ago. After dinner was through he had taken him on a walk through a barren garden that was somehow beautiful in its late winter decay.  
  
All in all it was a pleasant evening and one Harry could say that he thoroughly enjoyed. He liked Craig, liked his carefree cadence and the way he spoke about everything in his life with a certain sort of joy that didn't seem fabricated, and he could easily see them becoming fast friends - but that was the key word: _friends_. He wondered as Craig walked him back to his car at the end of the evening if he was being unfair, if he was killing a chance to be truly happy just because the man before him wasn't blonde and snarky and he didn't have any known tendency to go mental around muggle technology and James Bond flicks.  
  
Because plan or no plan, Harry knew his chances with Draco were terribly slim, and the thought that he might be throwing away something that could potentially be good nagged at him. He also couldn't stop thinking about Hermione and how she had picked Craig out for him, a gentle man, a handsome man, a funny man. She had put lots of thought into it, that much was obvious, almost as if she was very carefully sliding a second option in his path - just in case.  
  
Because she wanted him to be happy and Craig had that potential.  
  
So when Craig leaned in to hug him, Harry didn't pull back. When the man tipped his chin and pressed his lips against Harry's in a light kiss, he let him. He closed his eyes and tried to feel, he tried to image himself anticipating Craig's owls and planning dates and letting the kiss turn deeper, longer, harder. He tried to enjoy it. But despite the soft, dry lips and the pleasant scent of his cologne, it felt all wrong and he kept thinking about how he had spent forty minutes trying to fix the ruined stereo earlier that day before he had slammed down the screwdriver and declared it beyond repair. He kept replaying how Draco just shrugged and with a flick of his wand rearranged the couch so it was positioned atrociously close to the telly - how he had jabbed at the remote until the volume turned up loud enough on the old built in speakers. How he had pulled Harry down beside him and ordered him to put on the last Star Wars film.  
  
He had squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stop thinking about how Draco had snickered triumphantly when Leia unfroze Han and how the man sat so close to him that Harry didn't even need to try and discreetly enact _step one touching_. Because Draco was already leaning against his side, snorting in his ear when something amused him and gasping quietly when nervous. His mind was spinning as Craig's lips parted just slightly and before he could think it through he was pulling back too soon for the kiss to end naturally, leaving him to blush and stammer out some lame sentence that didn't even penetrate his brain. Because all he could think about was the moment when he had paused the film and pointed at the screen with the remote control.  
  
"See this? This is most men's ultimate fantasy." He had said, the telly frozen on a screen shot of Leia in a gold swirled bikini, spinning a massive gun.  
  
To which Draco just snorted, grabbed the remote, ran the movie back a few frames before pausing it on a still of Han springing free of his restraints. "No, this is the fantasy." Then he had looked over at Harry and smiled softly, tapping the remote control rhythmically against his knee. "Heroism Harry, is fucking sexy as hell." Draco didn't turn back to the movie right away, his gaze lingering on Harry's face for a moment that felt like a small eternity - Harry's heart still in his chest and his tongue wanting to lamely point out that many a witch and wizard had called him a hero throughout his lifetime.  
  
When the movie had ended, with Draco grinning his rare wide lipped grin and declaring that he knew all along that Darth Vader wasn't pure evil, Harry had reluctantly pried himself away to get ready for his date. He hadn't expected Draco to still be sitting cross legged on the couch when he was finally ready, nor did he think he heard him right when the man finally spoke as he was shrugging on his jacket.  
  
"Have fun." Draco had said, his voice sharper than Harry was used to being directed at him, his back stiff against the arm rest. "Just don't dance too close, you don't want him to think you’re a slag." Then he had stood up in one fluid move and disappeared down the hall as Harry stared at the spot he had just vacated while he tried to decide if Draco had sounded off because he was...Merlin help him, jealous?  
  
It was that thought, that Draco could possibly be jealous over Harry going on a date, that made him smile a little after his lips parted from Craig's. It was horrible really, thinking about another man while on a date with such a nice bloke, the guilty feeling only intensifying when the dark haired man grinned and said something about them doing this again sometime soon. Harry nodded, muttering a, "Yeah, okay," simply because he couldn't think of anything else to say.  
  
Craig was still grinning as he kissed Harry's cheek before waving goodbye, leaving him standing alone against the side of his car as he watched his blind date all but skip away.  
  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
Harry was nearly asleep, his eyelids heavy and his thoughts finally winding down enough to release them from their constant spinning, when his bedroom door inched open - the soft light of a dimmed _Lumos_ flooding the threshold and spilling reluctantly inside. He blinked at the bouncing light, his pupils blowing wide as they tried to see in the dark and without the aid of his spectacles, but a moment later it was gone anyway with a soft _whoosh_. He could hear feet padding gently across his floor and then his bed dipped and Harry closed his eyes and sucked in a quiet breath - wondering idly if perhaps he had fallen asleep some time ago and now he was reliving one his more frequent erotic dreams.  
  
"Draco?" He whispered, a wash of cold air hitting his limbs as the blankets were lifted and rearranged around a second body. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Sleeping." Draco muttered as Harry's eyes adjusted once more to the darkness with the gentle silver light of the moon out his window, casting the other man's face in deep shadows and sharp angles and revealing the fact that Harry was indeed awake - which meant that there would be no kissing and frantic shedding of clothes and long repressed confessions.  
  
"You do know this isn't your bed right?" Harry asked, trying to listen for a slur in the other man's words that would indicate that he was completely wasted. Wouldn't be the first time the man had stumbled into the wrong bed...though Harry had a theory about that. About Draco and too much alcohol on nights where he hadn't brought anyone home. A theory he didn't like to think on too much because it tended to make his heart ache and his hand reach out and sooth down the blonde’s arm as he twitched and mumbled brokenly in his sleep.  
  
He knew what nightmares looked like after all.  
  
"Mhmm, Ethan's here, he wanted to talk." His eyelids fluttered as he wiggled into a comfortable potion of laying on his side and facing Harry.  
  
"What about?" Harry asked, his arm hooking up under his pillow as he turned on his side so he was facing the other man straight on, his eyes tracking Draco's gentle shrug that got muffled in the blanket - curious as to why the man had sought him out if he already had a bedfellow to weather the night with and trying to remember if they were nearing a full moon. It hadn't taken him too long to draw the relation between Draco's bouts in his bed and the full silver orb hanging in the dark sky - though he was pretty certain that they had at least another week until it swelled full. "Does he..." licking his lips, Harry gathered his courage and pressed forward with the one question he had been wanting to ask since the night the man had shown up at the pub. "Does he was want to get back together?"  
  
"Yes."  The single syllable left Draco's lips with a soft hiss, like the word was reluctant to be revealed.  
  
"Do you?" Harry pressed, his body shifting forward half an inch, seeking out not only Draco's warmth but the cadence of his voice, his ears straining to hear the drop and lift in his words.  
  
Draco gazed back at him quietly for a moment that stretched and stretched and engulfed Harry in a flutter of nerves. "I don't know." He sounded uncertain and uneasy, his eyes blinking in that closed off way that told Harry not to push it.  
  
"Okay." Fiddling with the edge of his pillow case, Harry bit his lip and glanced into the darkness at the door beyond them with Ethan just a few paces down the hall apparently. "So...so why are you in here again?"  
  
"Ethan fell asleep on my bed." Draco grumbled as he turned his face into the pillow.  
  
Harry smothered the grin that wanted to distort his face over the fact that Draco apparently had no desire to share a bed with his past and possibly future lover. Instead he kicked at Draco's shin and wiggled a little closer in the very same second. "So go sleep on the couch."  
  
"Can't. It's too cold and I'm too pissed to cast a decent heating charm."  
  
"Then adjust the thermostat."  
  
Draco popped an eye open, looking over at him incredulously with his face half buried in the pillow. "You _want me_ to fiddle with that boxy thing?"  
  
"Er, no."  
  
"Didn't think so." Draco muttered, kicking back at Harry's leg with vindication. Silence stretched between them as Draco shifted once more, burring himself deeper into the blankets and Harry tried not to stare at him, telling himself that the man was probably going to pass out now and the night would pass without further event or incident - other than the fact that he'd be sleeping all night close to a warm body that happened to belong to the man he desperately wanted.  
  
So much for sleeping then.  
  
"So how was your date?" Draco's voice was quiet and muffled and Harry blinked stupidly at him until the other man opened his eyes and looked at him expectantly.  
  
"It was nice." Harry heard himself whisper back. "We had Ethiopian food."  
  
"And did you manage not to step on his toes all night?"  
  
"Er...I...we went on a walk instead." Harry didn't know why he felt slightly guilty all of a sudden - _he_ hadn't been the one who had tricked them both into thinking he was going to have to suffer the dance floor all night.  
  
"A walk? In this weather?"  
  
"It was actually quite pretty, we walked through a garden." Harry smiled softly at Draco's sleepy scowl that didn't punctuate his features like they typically did.  
  
"There are no gardens in winter Harry, only dead branches and frost bitten leaves." Draco rebutted as he tugged the blanket that had fallen a little back up his naked shoulder - the skin white in the moonlight, kissed silver by their luminous rays. "Did he make a move?"  
  
"What?" Harry blinked.  
  
"You got home late, you couldn't have been walking all this time."  
  
Harry licked his lips and felt his cheeks pink at the implication. "Are you asking if I slept with him?"  
  
Draco shrugged. "Did you?"  
  
"God no, I just met him. I just...drove around for a bit afterwards." Harry watched as his gray eyes slipped closed and he turned into his pillow, the stiff line of his shoulders slumping, the change in his muscles so minuscule he could have imaged it...but then, maybe he hadn't? "He kissed me though." The words left his lips before he could think it through all the way, his chest constricting as his brain kicked into overdrive with thoughts whirling around his head - that one dangerous thought igniting once more, _was Draco jealous?_ God he hoped...that had been Hermione's reasoning for this step hadn't it? To make Draco think about the possibility of losing Harry, to make the other man confront that possibility. "And he asked me out again."  
  
"What did you say?" Draco was looking at him again, the damn blanket sneaking back down as Harry told his eyes not to trace the curve of his exposed throat and shoulder.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The blonde was quiet for a moment, his arm hooking up under his pillow in a mirror image of how Harry was lying, and despite the fact that the bed was quite big they had ended up so close Harry could feel the warmth of his breath. "Do yourself a favor and don't fuck him after."  
  
"Interesting advice coming from you."  
  
Draco shrugged again, not at all pulsed that Harry had just pointed out his slutty habits. "It's different, you can't separate yourself from emotions, you couldn't fuck just for the sake of it."  
  
"And you can?" Harry asked, already intimately knowing the answer. Draco could be as cool as glass if he wanted, his shears snipping anything and anyone away the moment he was through.  
  
"Yes. I prefer it." His eyes traced Harry's face in a heavy way, almost like a caress, a whisper soft touch that made him shiver. "That way it's always new, always intense, it never grows stale or predictable. Each man kisses different, touches different, fucks different. I like mapping them out, I like the high, and then moving on."  
  
"But what if you find a man you don't want to stop kissing?" The lengthy pause that followed had Harry wondering if perhaps Draco had fallen asleep, that the drinks he'd had that night had finally caught up with him and tugged him into their warm embrace - leaving the questions unanswered and hanging between them. Again. Just like that night in the bar a few weeks ago. Because this was not a conversation they would ever have in the light of day, these were things they didn't say, didn't speak about, just like Draco didn't talk about his full moon nightmares and Harry pretended he didn't know about them.  
  
"Then I never start." Draco answered softly, startling Harry from his drifting thoughts, his mind and body snapping wide awake as he blinked and watched the other man turn over - facing away from him and dropping back off into complete silence.  
  
Harry stared at his back for a moment, pale with a sharply bony spine, as he replayed Draco's answer. He opened his mouth and shut it, lifted his hand and dropped it back to the bed, because... _fuck_. He was torn with what to do because part of him thought that maybe he was talking about Ethan and another part thought that maybe...just maybe...he was talking about someone else...  
  
Glancing over his shoulder, Harry gazed out his bedroom window, at the moon hung bright in the sky - but not as bright as it could be, not like on nights when it was full. Which meant no fear of nightmares had driven Draco to his bed and maybe the fact that Ethan was taking up the man's bed hadn't either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh how I had missed Ron, he needed to make an appearance :)


	6. The Miracle of Chinese Food

"Bloody hell, you fucking with me?" Ron was blocking the path, his arm held out and latched firmly onto the door standing just far enough ajar to fit himself between it and the frame - his face set firmly in a disapproving frown. "I mean, what is this? The fifth time we've seen you this week? Doesn't speak well for your social standing if you're spending all your time making my son stare up at your ugly mug."  
  
"I brought beer." Harry replied without missing a beat as he held out the cardboard pack with a little shake.   
  
"Well why didn't you say? Get your arse in here." Ron grinned, motioning his friend into his home with a little chuckle as Harry shuffled out of the cold and into the all-encompassing warmth that smelled a bit like burnt bread. "Fair warning though, might be best brace yourself mate."  
  
"What, why?" Relinquishing the beer, Harry's smile twitched on his lips as he heard his name being screeched from down the hall, a demand to _get in here_ rattling his ears. "Merlin, she's wound." He muttered as he shed his jacket and scarf, trying in vain to crane his neck around the corner and peek into the kitchen.  
  
Ron nodded gravely, clutching the six pack like a lifeline. "All your fucking fault too....well and maybe Hugo's, the little monster refused to sleep again last night."  
  
Harry cringed and clapped Ron on the back. "You can have the beer all to yourself."  
  
"No truer friend have I ever had." The redhead replied solemnly, blinking his large blue eyes at Harry like the man was an angle sent from heaven to relieve his ungodly suffering.   
  
"Harry, get in here! I want to hear all about your date!" Hermione shouted and Harry picked up his pace, striding into the kitchen where she was setting a steaming hot casserole out on the table with Hugo trying to claw his way up her leg. "Ron, get your son will you?"  
  
"Why is he always _my son_ when you’re annoyed with him?" Ron asked as he picked up the littlest Weasley and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Should at least let Harry eat before you interrogate him. Jumping him on an empty stomach might just traumatize him enough that he never dates again." He grumbled as he slipped Hugo into his highchair before dropping down into the seat beside him. "Do you really want that on your conscious?"  
  
"He'll be fine." She deadpanned, the pitcher of water hitting the table with a thunk.  
  
"I can feed him." Harry volunteered as Ron set a plate with a little mound of food, mushed to unrecognizable goo, in front of the lad - his voice light and carefree and hopelessly trying to ease the mood in the kitchen with his two sleep deprived friends who were way too invested in his romantic life. Course, if it wasn't for their abundance of over caring Harry probably wouldn't be trying an insane plan to snag Draco for himself. A plan with steps that Harry honestly couldn't see the merit in, or how they were possibly going to work, but he trusted Hermione with everything else in his life, might as well trust her with this as well.  
  
"No." Hermione intercepted him, motioning to a chair opposite Ron, her curly hair reduced to a giant static ball of frizz about her flushed face. Her white tee had some sort of yellowish stain on the side that had come untucked from her shapeless jeans that Ron had dubbed her _don't touch me_ _right now_ pants when they had first moved in together, the socks on her feet warm and woolly and bright pink and there was a pencil peeking out from one of the more treacherous portions of her wild hair like it was hopelessly trying to keep from being swallowed whole. "Seat. Eat. Talk."   
  
She looked exhausted but with this bright little spark in her eye, the same one she got before an exam she knew she was going to ace.  
  
So Harry sat, he scooped up his food, ladled a bite, and after promptly swallowing the meal that wasn't anywhere near decent and tasted more like she hadn't slept in four nights and maybe kept forgetting how much salt she had already used than anything else, started talking. "It was nice. You're right he was funny and sweet and we had a great time. Though I really should be pissed at you for making me dread the whole night because I thought he was taking me dancing."  
  
"He didn't?" Ron asked as he tried to land a spoon full between Hugo's firmly shut lips, the boy’s chubby hands banging against the tray.  
  
"Of course not." Hermione answered, her own plate untouched as she sipped on her water and watched Harry closely. "I'm glad you had a nice time Harry, Craig sure seemed light hearted today at work. He even stopped by my office to thank me for setting you two up."  
  
"Yeah?" Harry blushed, his fork pushing his food around his plate as he felt the same pinch of guilt that had assaulted him after the man had kissed him the other night.  
  
She smiled and nodded, her elbow resting on the table as Hugo squealed and Ron took the opportunity to shove a bite into his mouth. "Let him do it honey." She instructed before turning back to Harry with that studious look he was so used to seeing on her. He was quite honestly surprised that she wasn't setup with note taking supplies, recording in detail his answers and meticulously charting out his next move. "And how did Draco react the next day?"  
  
Harry shrugged, taking his time chewing as he mulled over his answer, uncertain just how honest he wanted to be with what had transpired that night - unaccountably wanting to keep a portion of it hidden, a secret that was just for the two of them, just like he had always done concerning their nights together.   
  
After he had finally managed to drift off last night he had slept remarkably well, his body warm and his arms full when he had woken once before dawn to find the other man pressed against his front with his arm holding him close. Soft hair had tickled his cheek as he blinked in the creeping daylight, a sleepy smile on his lips as he breathed deep and snuggled closer, his arm tightening and Draco humming softly in his sleep. When he awoke again, the sun bright in the sky out his window, Draco was gone - the flat empty with a mug of coffee and a pile of pancakes waiting under a stasis charm for him in the kitchen.  
  
Ethan had made the pancakes, he was sure of it, and Draco had made the bitter coffee. Harry hadn't known how to feel about it, the place too quiet for a Sunday morning, too lonely, the paper entirely his when he was used to Draco stealing all the good bits. When his flatmate had returned later that day they didn't speak of the night before nor did he share with Harry where he had been. Instead the blonde was oddly quiet - his eyes tracking Harry over the rim of his book before darting back behind the pages whenever Harry looked his way. The fleeting looks made him feel giddy even though he wasn't sure if he should be so flustered over it all - a quiet Draco never boded well if history told him anything after all.  
  
Still, he nearly drove himself mental trying to figure out what the man had been thinking.  
  
"He told me not to sleep with him." Harry speared a noddle but set the fork down before he could eat it.  
  
Hermione grinned and nodded, shushing Ron when he opened his mouth with a confused look on his face. "Good, that's great! On to step three then."  
  
"Why is that great? Harry deserves to get laid every now and then...and what exactly is step three...wait, what was step one come to think of it?" Ron asked, a muscle in his cheek twitching as a wad of goo landed on his hand resting on Hugo's tray.  
  
"Touching." Hermione reminded him, her nose scrunching like he had forgotten her birthday or some other unforgivable offense.  
  
"Er...they're always touching." Ron pointed out as Harry blushed and went back to pushing his food around on his plate and Hermione blinked blankly at him. "No, seriously Mione, they're _always_ touching. It's a bit mental really."  
  
"Just trust me." Hermione combed her fingers through her hair, her lips frowning as she wrestled the pencil from the frizzy knots and stared at it grumpily for a moment before tossing it on the table. "So Harry, you ready for step three?"  
  
"Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that actually." Harry perked up, grateful that Ron had stopped pointing out the oddness of their friendship and before he could ask Harry again if he was sure they weren't already dating. "I don't see how surprising Draco at work will accomplish anything. I mean, I already meet him there sometimes."  
  
"It will." She replied cryptically, lifting her fork and finally taking a bite - her nose screwing up as she chewed. "Ugh...that's it, we're ordering pizza."  
  
"Yes!" Ron hollered in triumph before sobering quickly as her sharp eye turned on him. "I mean, if that's what you want love..."   
  
Hermione snorted and shook her head as Ron let a grin split his lips once more and Hugo laughed for no reason what so ever. The casserole got pitched into the rubbish, Hugo was released from what Harry was pretty sure the boy viewed as prison and set to wander the floor in freedom as they gathered in the lounge to await the arrival of edible food. The evening passed too fast, talking about the latest news from the joke shop and what Ginny was up to with the Harpies, and before Harry knew it Hermione had passed out on the couch and Ron was nearly out as well, and he was heading home, wiping through the floo and emerging out onto his hearth in a coughing cloud of ash - his head a bit foggy from the beer Ron had decided to share with him (because who likes drinking alone?).   
  
He had stumbled to his room and would have missed the note pinned to his door if not for the fact that it was bright green and shaped like a cloud. He blinked stupidly at it for a moment, his eyesight refusing to focus for much too long. But when the neatly written letters finally formed themselves into legible words, Harry had to blink, rub his eyes, and read them again just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.  
  
_  
I believe the hob may have gone dark, it won't stop hissing like an evil little snake (think twelve year old you, fucking creepy Harry, still gives me nightmares thinking about it). I cast a protective shell around the vile thing so we don't die in our sleep. Fix it in the morning?  
  
\- Draco_  
  
  
Below that one was another note, this one bright blue and oval.  
  
_  
Oh and we're out of bread. Pick some up? The kind without those atrocious little seeds. The one in the white bag?  
  
 - D_  
  
  
And below that was one last tacked up bit of parchment, bright pink and pig shaped. God, where was he even getting these things and when exactly had the blonde discovered Post-it notes? Fuck, their kitchen was going to be covered in them any day now.  
  
_  
Where were you anyway? And don't say out with Formally-From-Archives-What's-His-Name, I'll be severely disappointed in you if you didn't make him wait at least two weeks before seeing you again.  
  
Dinner tomorrow? I want to try out that new Indian place down the way.  
  
\- Oh fuck it, you know it's me, who else would this be anyway? _  
  
  
Harry couldn't help his sloppy grin as he pulled the notes from his door and shoved them in his pocket, his eyes straying to Draco's door shut tight down the hall. It only took him a moment to ponder his response before he was summoning a pen and sticking the first Post-it on the blonde’s door and scratching out his reply on the bottom half under the man's signature.  
  
__  
I told you, appliances don't go dark but I'll look at it in the morning. There's more bread in the bottom drawer, the one that sticks a little. Indian sounds great, walk over together after work?  
  
\- Harry  
  
P.S. His name is Craig and no, I was at Ron and Hermione's, getting covered in snot and spit and fighting off their son's money grubbing hands.  
  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
Tightening his grip on the white plastic bag, Harry took a deep breath and pushed the door open, the little bell above tinkling softly as he stepped through the threshold.

Draco's specialty potions shop was quaint, a quiet place tucked between a rare book store and a barbershop whose owner was older than a century and wore glasses as thick as coke bottles. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with neatly labeled potions of varying size and color and there was even a ladder on wheels attached to a piped railing that ran the circumference of the ceiling, allowing those who dared to venture to the top shelves and the gems hidden there. The room was open and felt cavernous despite its actual size with a grand desk in the corner where an older women jotted down special orders and ran the prices for customers.   
  
"Harry!" Margret exclaimed as she looked up from the parchment she was writing carefully on with a long feathered quill, a boy - Draco's new apprentice Harry reasoned - glancing up in surprise from his spot sitting on the floor in the opposite corner where he was carefully restocking the lower shelves. It was always a shock to Draco's new employees when they found out that their boss lived with non-other than the great and powerful Harry Potter. Some tended to gape at him every time he came around, two had asked for his autograph and then promptly groveled in apology due to their boss’s venomous reaction, but thankfully every now and then Draco employed someone who acted as if Harry wasn't anything special at all.  
_  
_ Harry spared him a small smile before striding towards the desk with a wide grin. "Afternoon Margret." He liked the tattooed witch, she was one of the few who thought he was nothing all that special until he had won her over by charm and luck and chocolate, plus she was surely just as mental as her boss - which was no doubt why she had been with Draco since the beginning and still showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.  
  
"What brings you in?" She leaned on the desk with knobby elbows, her fingers pushing her stick straight, sleek hair behind her ear. "Tracking down criminals in our neighborhood?" Her large brown eyes widened as she dropped her voice an octave. "Has there been a murder?"  
  
"No, nothing of the sort, just thought I'd bring Draco lunch." Dropping the plastic bag housing the blonde’s favorite Chinese food on the desk, Harry glanced around quickly. "Is he in his office?"  
  
There was a small choked noise that sounded shockingly mouse like that emitted from the corner before Margret clucked her tongue and shook her head. "Potions lab." She said, jerking her head backwards and towards the door that Harry knew led to Draco's well stocked and suffocating workroom. "But best not go in there just yet, Mr. Malfoy is working out a problem with one of the new batches of Dreamless Sleep."  
  
"Oh, should he be long, do you think?" He asked, gazing at the door like he could see what was going on behind it and therefor judge if he should wait around or not.  
  
Margret shrugged. "You know him, Harry."  
_  
_ Nodding, Harry thrummed his fingers on the desk as he debated what to do, because Merlin did he know Draco. The man could be in there for days. "Well, I suppose -" His words were cut off and drowned out by an explosion that rattled the desk and all the bottles precariously on the shelves, the bag of food on the edge of the wood nearly tumbling to the floor before Harry managed to steady it with a quick hand as Margret sighed and spelled her ink well back into its correct potion with a well-practiced wave of her wand. "What -"  
  
"Fuck! Stephen!" The curse was muffled but very clearly his flatmate, the potion lab's door banging open a second later to reveal Draco standing in the threshold - smoke curling about his feet and floating in wisps off the strands of his hair. He looked entirely mad, thick black rimmed goggles shoved up onto his forehead with rubbery gloves encasing his hands that were covered in something blue and a heavily warded apron sizzling nefariously that covered his upper body and thighs. "Where is the imbecile? I'm going to wrangle his skinny little neck for this!" Draco jerked the glove from his hand to fall with a wet slap against the polished wood floor with the second one following soon after, his eyes wild as they zeroed in on the young man on the floor.  
  
"Mr. Ma-" The boys voice shook, his mouth stuck soundlessly open as Draco held up a hand to quiet him.  
  
"What kind of idiotic, completely useless moron doesn't check his ingredients?" Draco demanded, taking a threatening step inside his shop. "What am I always telling you? Don't trust the label! Always double check! Always! You could have killed us all with your incompetency."  
  
"Best sneak out while you can." Margret whispered to him as Harry watched Draco advance on his apprentice, his boots squeaking on the floor and leaving a trail of something gooey and neon behind him. "I'll tell him you stopped by after he's calmed down and had a cuppa."  
  
But the poor man, Stephen apparently, looked utterly terrified and Harry couldn't blame him - Draco could be scary as all fuck when he wanted to be. Not to mention that everyone made mistakes but the blonde unfortunately had a hard time remembering things like that when those mistakes ruined his hair and put him behind schedule. "Draco." He said, taking a step to intercept the two, whatever else he was about to say dying on his tongue for a moment as those fiery eyes turned on him and blinked in confusion.  
  
"Oh, Harry. What are you...?" He cocked his head, his brow furrowing for a moment and Harry thought that maybe Stephen would survive this encounter after all - but then something dark sparked in his face and he was rounding on the young man once more, his finger jabbing towards Harry in an accusing manner. "You could have killed Harry Potter! How would you like to start your career off like that? Huh? Being known for the rest of your days as the man who blew up the Defeater of the Dark Lord because you're too daft to check the integrity of your ingredients! You should be forced to spend your days bound to the stocks while vile little children throw rotten vegetables at the trussed up clod!"  
  
Margret chuckled and pulled a bag of chocolate from her drawer, popping a piece happily into her mouth. "We don't have stocks Mr. Malfoy." She reminded her boss. "We could tie him up in the cupboard I suppose."  
  
"Not a bad idea Margret." Draco agreed as Stephen's eyes widened in alarm.  
  
"Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." He rushed to explain, his cheeks bright red. "I thought I doubled checked -"  
  
"You thought!" Draco hollered. "Your stupidity abounds."  
  
"Come on Draco, no one got hurt." Harry tried to reassure him as a vain in the blonde's forehead pulsed dangerously.  
  
"No one got hurt?" Draco huffed as he thrust his hand between them, his pinky stuck straight out where he could see a bleeding cut sliced down its length. "Your atrocious brew somehow managed to explode the silver cauldron! If this gets infected I shall have your head!"   
  
"It won't get infected." Harry rushed to say before Stephen could open his mouth and dig himself deeper, there was simply no reasoning with Draco when he was in such a mood...though if Harry was honest he was more than a little curious as to how the young man had managed to bollocks up so badly that his potion had not only exploded but managed to cut Draco through his protective gloves. "Come on, I'll heal you and then you can decided what you want to do with him, okay?" Grasping his bony wrist, Harry gave a little tug as Draco continued to glower down menacingly at the boy.  
  
"Don't forget your Chinese." Margret held up the plastic bag and Harry smiled inwardly as Draco's head spun around to look at her, his scowl slipping.  
  
"Chinese?" He asked.  
  
"Yup, now come on." Keeping a firm hold of Draco's wrist, Harry grabbed the bag and tugged the man after him, stepping carefully into the lab that looked worse than he had expected - like blue blood had drenched the entire center with cracked jars littering the table.   
  
"I'll deal with you later and you better start praying to any deity that will hear from your halfwit lips that I don't murder you." Draco glared back at Stephen right up until the door clicked shut behind them, after which he immediately started grumbling about his ruined workbench and that he would have to work overtime to brew another batch to keep on schedule and that the expense for a new cauldron would be coming out of his apprentices pocket.   
  
"Take off the apron and your boots." Harry instructed after picking his way carefully through the room and stopping before the door leading into the man's office.  
  
"What?" Draco blinked at him in a distracted sort of way after his wide eyes had traveled slowly around the room and over to Harry.  
  
"Their covered in that potion." He smiled, his fingers slipping the thick goggles from Draco's head and making the blonde hair stand on end and flop around messily. God, that shouldn't be as sexy as it was.   
  
"Oh. Right." Shedding his apron and toeing off his boots, Harry pried his eyes away and opened the door before following the man into the cozy little room that smelled like old parchment and worn leather and dusty ink. Sometimes Draco came home smelling like his office, the scent attaching to his skin and hair and making Harry dizzy when he moved close. "I'm going to murder that pillock." Draco declared as he immediately fell backwards on the overstuffed couch, his pale hand pushing up into his hair and clenching.  
  
"Give him a chance Draco, isn't he right out of Hogwarts? He'll learn." Unpacking the take away containers, Harry arranged them on the little coffee table before settling down on the floor at Draco's feet and handing the man the ginger garlic chicken and a pair of chopsticks.  
  
"No, he's useless Harry. Utterly, utterly useless." Sighing deeply, Draco stuck the sticks into the carton and glared down at it sullenly. "Extra garlic?"  
  
"Mhmm." Harry nodded as he wound a length of curly noodles around his chopsticks and tried to shovel it into his mouth - damn, he was rubbish at this. "One mistake though shouldn't cost him his apprenticeship."  
  
"Oh it's not one mistake, its dozens, every damn day, I have been exceedingly patient with the louse." Slipping onto the floor beside him, Draco popped a piece of chicken into his mouth like he had been born with chopsticks in hand. "Did you get gyozas?"  
  
Poking one of the containers with his chopsticks in answer, Harry snagged a bite of chicken as the other man reached across the table and delicately lifted a dumpling. "He can't be that bad, he came with that glowing recommendation right?"  
  
Draco nodded as he chewed quickly. "Yes but I'm beginning to think it was a fake, a fucking forgery."  
  
"Or maybe you just make him nervous."  
  
Pausing with a bite hovering near his open lips, Draco gazed back at him thoughtfully. "Nervous?"  
  
"You are intimidating, I mean you became a Potions Master at an insanely young age didn't you? And you can be a bit of a...perfectionist."  
  
"Don't sugar coat it Potter, I can be a bastard, I know it." Draco grumbled, stabbing at his chicken with excess force.  
  
"Fine, you can be a bastard at times and Stephen might just be overly nervous around you, so much so that no matter how hard he tires he can't help but bollocks up. Maybe if you lightened up and didn't breathe down his neck all day he might surprise you."  
  
With narrowed eyes, Draco set his carton down carefully and aimed a chopstick accusingly at Harry's face. "You seem awfully vested in the dimwit all of a sudden."  
  
"Not everything's a grand scheme alright? I just think that everyone deserves a chance." Harry said, sighing inwardly as Draco's glare deepened. "And it's good for you right? Having an apprentice so early in your career, rather prestigious, but people might wonder why you terminated him so quickly. You know how fast gossip spreads, especially when attached to the Malfoy name."  
  
"There's a hidden snake in you yet Potter." Draco conceded with a smile twitching begrudgingly on his lips as he snagged Harry's chow main and expertly ensnared the noodles. "Fine then, he has one more month to prove he's not a complete waste of air."  
  
"See like that." Harry said around his mouthful. "Try not to say things like that in front of him."  
  
Draco snorted as he slumped back against the couch. "Unlikely, I'm not a saint after all, you can't expect miracles."  
  
Handing Draco the bottle of water he had brought along, Harry thought quietly for a moment, what felt like a golden opportunity rising from the mess in the other room. Bringing Draco lunch was supposed to have been a nice surprise, something that would shine in the man’s memory for the rest of the day, yet with the situation he had interrupted Harry feared that his endeavor had lost some of its potential. Because while Draco was obviously glad for the food and Harry's timely presence, he was understandably too preoccupied to see the gesture for what it was. "True, so maybe start with charging him with the task of restoring the lab."  
  
"Oh Merlin, I wouldn't be able to sit back and watch him further destroy anything." The bottle wobbled as he deposited it back on the table, his fingers picking up a gyoza and telling Harry just how troubled the other man felt over what had happened. Draco couldn't stand being put behind schedule nor could he tolerate even the _idea_ that his shop had produced a faulty product. Or even a subpar one.  
  
"So don't watch. We can go out, we do need to buy a new stereo still."  
  
"Don't you need to get back to work?"  
  
"It will still be there tomorrow." Harry grinned at him, summoning a piece of parchment and a quill and purposely not thinking about the meeting he would be missing. "Here, write out your instructions. No insults added or condescending wording."  
  
"Miracles Harry, you're wishing for miracles." Draco chided him but he was starting to let his smile break through, the lines of his shoulders easing a fraction and the chopsticks were back in his hand as he scooped out another bite.  
  
"Then I'll write it, just tell me what to say." Placing the quill to the parchment, Harry waited, his smile growing as Draco sat up straighter and started rattling off to him between large bites. He dutifully copied everything down (minus the colorful wording) and by the time they were finished the food was nearly gone and they were both pleasantly full and Draco was already in a better mood - his eyes doing that odd lingering thing they had done the other day as he snapped the fortune cookie in half and handed a piece to Harry.  
  
Popping his half into his mouth, Harry watched curiously as Draco's eyes narrowed slightly as he read the little paper fortune before snorting and tossing it down in a crumple on the table. "Rubbish." Draco declared as he snatched the completed list and rose from his spot, snapping it up into a tight roll with a gentle flick of his wrist. "Shall we go then?"  
  
Nodding with a smile, Harry rose from his spot and snagged his jacket he had discarded as Draco opened the door and spelled his boots clean. He watched the blonde march away, stomping through the lab and growling Stephen's name as he pushed through the outer door. Running a hand through his hair and gripping the back of his neck tightly after the door had slammed shut, Harry glanced down at the table curiously before reaching out and soothing the tiny rectangle back open, a flush tinting his cheeks as he read the surprisingly accurate fortune.   
  
_A secret admirer will soon send you a sign of affection_.   
  
Slipping the fortune into his back pocket, Harry smiled to himself as he carefully picked his way back through the lab and out the other side to where Draco stood waiting for him, his lips clamped firmly shut and his left eye twitching as he glowered at his apprentice who was reading over the to-do list. "Breathe, Draco." Harry muttered to him, tugging on his elbow and leading him towards the exit, waving goodbye to Margret and quickly throwing his arm across Draco's shoulders as the man made to turn back around with a lashing on his tongue.  
  
"Have fun!" Margret called after them as the blonde sucked in a loud breath through his nose and grumbled about _murder by stupidity_ as he leant into Harry's side and stepped out onto the sidewalk with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! So, so, SO SORRY that this is late! Life got away from me and then I was out of town. Ack, I've never missed a weekly update and I don't like the feeling, no I do not. Forgive me? Hope this was worth the wait at least :)


	7. No Regrets

  
  
  
  
  
The long floor length mirror made him look shorter than he was. Or maybe it was the dark heather gray three piece suit, pinned up at the ankles by tiny needles and folded in on the side by more of the poky things with minuscule red rounded heads that the tailor had somehow managed not to stick him with as Harry stood as still as he possibly could atop the platform. These places always managed to make him feel like a little kid again, someone too small to be standing on the pedestal, uncertain what to do with his hands and unable to keep his legs from jiggling no matter how hard the tailor glared at him. He was (finally, blissfully, thank god he was no longer having to listen to that little man mutter under his breath) alone now, staring at his reflection and carding a hand through his unmanageable hair, a smile he couldn't contain on his lips.  
  
It had been a wonderful day.  
  
After Harry had gotten a cup of coffee and some fresh air into Draco, the blonde had calmed down considerably, putting out of his mind for the time being the thought of his shop and his incompetent apprentice. They had spent over an hour picking out their new stereo, Draco demanding to test each and every one out with large headphones pressed snugly against his ears as he fiddled with knobs and dials and buttons - his eyes wide and bulging as he stepped into a booth that demonstrated home theater systems. Harry was pleased with the one they had struck a compromise on and he managed to place the order for it with Draco only sneaking in four little extras that they didn't need.  
  
Though he looked cute in the massive headphones, so Harry really couldn't complain.  
  
Then they had walked through the bustling street, sipping on coffee and debating the merits of trying to fit in a movie at the cinema before it got too late. Somehow though they had ended up here instead, Draco insisting that they needed to get Harry a proper suit for Pansy's costume party that was coming up much too fast and wasn't it _fortunate_ that the man needed to pick up his suit from the tailors just down the way?  
  
Yet to be honest, even after all the fuss and measuring and pinning, Harry didn't think he looked anything like James Bond, the conclusion only solidified as he twisted and looked over himself once more. It was the hair, his fucking crazy hair. Bond would never have such wild curls and Harry doubted that Draco would be able to tame it no matter how much hair gel they used.  
  
"Fuck." He cursed, jumping a little as the heavy curtain was whisked suddenly aside.  
  
"Don't jump like that, you'll skewer yourself." Draco chided as he stepped inside the closed off space and let the curtain swing shut behind him. He was adorned in a midnight black suit - black slacks, black shirt, black vest, black jacket, black tie, black shoes - the cut tailored perfectly to fit the curve of his willowy frame and strikingly offsetting the frosty color of his skin and glow of his hair. He looked, well, fucking incredible.  
  
Harry swallowed thickly and forced his eyes up to meet the other mans as he came to a stop before him. "All black? Isn't that a touch cliché?" He smirked as he raised an eyebrow and told his pulse not to race.  
  
"No." Draco smiled, his hands slipping into his trouser pockets effortlessly. "It’s classic."  
  
"If you're going for classic villain then you need to fake a massive scar that runs up the length of your face."   
  
"See now, that's cliché." Draco corrected, his eyes traveling down the length of Harry's body and making him want to fidget. "You look nice."  
  
"Yeah?" He blushed and toyed with the cuff of the jacket. "Still don't see why I need to purchase it though, it's just for one night. Could have just transfigured something."  
  
Shaking his head, Draco reached out with his pale hands to grasp Harry's tie, straightening the fabric that he was pretty sure was already perfect. "You look hot Harry, trust me, you _want_ to own this suit." Tipping his head, Draco watched his own fingers working over the expertly tied knot, his brow furrowing so very lightly in thought. It was a look that had been creeping across the man's face all day, in quiet moments when the blonde didn't think Harry was looking, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth for a moment only to be released a second later, red and indented and wet.  
  
It made the usually reserved, indifferent man look troubled, made him seem exposed in an unsettling sort of way.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked quietly, half expecting for Draco to smirk, smack him lightly on the cheek, and crack some demented joke at Harry's expense.  
  
But the man didn't do any of those things, he only remained oddly quiet as he fingered the knot of Harry's tie before darting his gaze up for a split second to meet Harry's. "Why did you bring me lunch today?"  
  
The question caught him off guard, leaving him blinking dumbly for a moment as he processed the words and tried to formulate a response. "I wanted to." Harry bit his tongue and watched the line carve itself deeper into Draco's forehead, the space that had felt so large only moments ago now small and too warm - excuses he was accustomed to making almost falling from his lips without a thought. But the point of this whole five step plan wasn't to only further lie, it wasn't to further bury his feelings, and his throat felt tight as he forced the next words off his stinging tongue. "I guess...it feels like I haven't seen you much lately. You didn't like it?"  
  
Draco glanced up at him through his yellow lashes, his palm dropping down as his fingers skidded over the swell of the knot and onto the slick fabric laying neatly against his chest. "No, I did, and your timely appearance may have saved you from having to arrest me as well as giving Stephen the prestigious opportunity to join the chosen many who have been personally rescued by the famed Boy Who Lived."  
  
"Ugh, don't call me that, you know I hate it."   
  
"Don't like being reminded of the heroic infant you were?" Draco chuckled and looked back down at the tie under his hand. "So, you have your date with Formally From Archives tonight?"  
  
"Craig? His name is Craig and yeah, I do." Harry hadn't wanted to agree to a second date, let alone attend it, because while he liked the man he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong, that he was leading him on. But Hermione had talked him into it and Harry had begrudgingly agreed.  
  
"What time?"  
  
"Eight."   
  
Draco was doing that slow nodding thing again, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip, as Harry desperately tried to figure out what was going on inside his head. But then he just opened his mouth and told him, right there, in the tailors in the middle of the day without any notice or preamble and shocking Harry to his core with the unfounded honesty of the moment. "Ethan want's a commitment." He said quietly, still staring at Harry's tie like it was the most fascinating thing in the entire world. "He wants to just pick right back up from where we left off, like the past few years never happened, like nothing’s changed."  
  
Harry blinked and swallowed, the sudden shift of topic throwing him off kilter because fuck, it wasn't even dark out and Harry hadn't even specifically asked and Draco never brought these kinds of things up and maybe it was all those reasons, rolled up into one neat ball that was suffocating him with the thought that this could very well be the end before they even had a beginning. "Has anything changed?" He whispered, his voice unable to go any higher.  
  
Shaking his head, Draco finally looked up at him, their eyes locking as he stared silently at him for the beat of several moments, in which Harry found he couldn't breathe or think or move. He was caught, his world hinging on the next words out of the other man's mouth.   
  
"Has it?" He pressed when Draco remained silent, his fingers lifting on their own to curl along the hem of the man’s black jacket, his tongue wetting his lips and his gaze moving to keep a hold of his fliting dark gray eyes. "Draco... _has_ anything changed?" He sounded desperate, he knew it, but he couldn't help it because Merlin, he _was_ desperate.  
  
Letting go and stepping back, Draco dropped his gaze to the floor, his hands slipping back into his pockets as Harry's fingers were forced to release their hold.   
  
"Do you even know?" Harry asked, his hand running sharply through his hair and a pin poking him in his side from the jerky movement. "I mean fuck, Draco, do you? You keep saying that you don't want to settle down, that you don't _do_ that, but you're thinking about it aren't you? You...do you love him?" Something was squeezing his chest painfully, his words harsher then he meant for them to be, spilling off his tongue in a rush of fear.   
  
_Panic_. That's what was crushing him from the inside. An overwhelming panic.  
  
Draco shrugged and Harry wanted to yank on his hair and scream, because the man wasn't saying anything, he was just standing there - telling Harry that his dreams could very well be shattered and not even...fuck, not even _realizing_ it.  
  
"You don't know...right. Did you? Back then, before he left?"  
  
"I thought I might." Draco finally answered softly after a long lengthy pause, his gaze flickering briefly up to Harry's. "I thought I did, for a while, at least...I don't know."  
  
"Draco, just, it's easy." Harry took a step forward and faltered, his hand dropping to grip the back of his neck and the needles stabbing him once more. "Do you want him more than anything? Do you think about him all the time? Do you want to fall asleep with him every night and fight over not watching James Bond for the millionth time?" He could go on, he could ask if Draco wanted to buy a house with him, if he wanted to have a restaurant that was theirs, could he see himself bonding himself to him sometime down the road? Did he think about slipping a ring on his finger? Did he already know what it would look like?  
  
"It's not that straightforward." Draco countered, his voice defensive and body half turned towards the exit.   
  
"It is, actually. Because if you'd rather be in the clubs, kissing someone else, _anyone else_ , then it's not love and you shouldn't be with him."  
  
Draco glowered and crossed his arms over his black chest. "What about passion then? Does that not count for anything?"  
  
"Is that what you guys have? Is that why you slept in my bed last week instead of with him?"  
  
"That's none of your fucking business." Draco spat, his heel pivoting to leave.  
  
Harry's arm shot out and latched onto his before he could reach the curtain, his blood pumping hot through his veins and demanding he see this through, that he not let this matter drop. Otherwise he feared Draco might just settle, might just fall back into a relationship he was used to instead of facing the fact that maybe things _had_ changed. He couldn't let him leave until he _saw_ \- finally saw what Harry felt. "Why do you do this? You're such a nutter when it comes to picking out anything, your clothes, your electronics, your food, but not this. You just sleep with whoever, you don't even fucking care about them! Why do you settle? Why don't you fight for what you want?"  
  
Draco's face fell shut, a hard unfeeling sharpness overtaking the vulnerability that had been there just moments ago. "Just leave it the hell alone."  
  
"You brought this up." Harry pointed out, his heart beating wildly and his breath pushing fast in and out of his lungs. "And you can't keep stringing him along if you don't want to be with him like he wants. You have to decide. You -"  
  
"Fuck off Harry." Draco snarled, jerking his arm free and striding from the room without a backwards glance.  
  
Harry was halfway through the curtain before he heard the gentle pop of disapparation and he came to a jerking halt, his eyes slipping closed as he breathed deep and tried to tell himself that the moister pricking at his eyelids wasn't really there. But his heart was sinking in his chest, drowning inside him as Harry shook his head and tried to tell himself that he hadn't just fucked everything up beyond repair.  
  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
The sun was dipping low in the sky when the wheels of Harry's car slowed to a crawl on the isolated gravel drive. He squinted in the gray light as he turned the key and quieted the engine, a nervous flutter taking up residence with a renewed vigor in his stomach. Slipping from the driver’s seat, he glanced all around himself, taking in the beauty of the sprawling grounds with long waving grass and grand oak trees casting lumbering shadows. There was nothing else in sight, no homes, no buildings of any sort, no other people with the air itself holding its own secret melody - a soft trickle of music, a comforting crispness that burned cold in the lungs but left a smile on your lips anyway.   
  
Harry had only been to this particular piece of land a handful of times over the last several years and he honestly didn't know how many people even knew about it. It wasn't something Draco discussed with most of his friends, it was something he rarely even spoke of with Harry. He could still remember the first time Draco had ever ridden in his car with him, the blondes pale hands grasping the dashboard tightly and a look of horror that soon melted to curious fascination and awe on his face. Halfway through the impromptu joyride he had given Harry rough, near impossible to follow directions (due to the fact that Draco had no idea about motor vehicles and their need for proper roads) that lead them here.  
  
There had been on odd sort of smile on the man's face as they exited the car and Draco led him through the meadow quietly before stopping suddenly and weaving a picture of the house that he planned to have built right where they were standing. The description had been so vivid, so detailed that Harry could practically see it springing to life around him, engulfing him in the imagery. But it was the look on Draco's face that Harry most remembered. It had been a peaceful look, a restful expression, a look that made Harry realize that not until that moment had he ever seen the man look so unburdened. So light. So happy.   
  
But that was years ago and Draco still hadn't made any moves to actually start building on his piece of land tucked away from the hustle of the city. No, instead he just kept jumping from flat to flat, from flatmate to flatmate.  
  
Buttoning up his thick wool jacket, Harry made his way slowly through the grass and towards the spot where he could remember Draco's imaginary home stood. He couldn't seem to stop fidgeting with every step he took, the scarf around his neck tightening as his fingers pulled, and his hair sticking up as he combed through the locks. There was a desperate sort of urgency urging him on, demanding he track down his flatmate and not let the sun set completely with their argument unsettled.  
  
Draco hadn't come home after the incident at the tailors and neither had he returned to his shop. Harry had spent the remainder of the dwindling afternoon and early evening pacing their flat, rehearsing the things he wanted to say in his head, and jumping at every little noise. He couldn't stop thinking about their fight, about the things that had been said. About the things that hadn't. About the miles of words unspoken between the two for so very long now.   
  
Somewhere between hour two and four of waiting around for his return Harry had stopped and stared at Draco's closed door, remembering night after night, men after men, names and faces all forgotten by the next morning. The drunken stumbling at three a.m., the kisses against walls Draco was careful to only ever do after Harry had gone to bed, the yanking him awake early the next morning because the toaster was dark, or the kettle was whistling evilly, or the burners on the hob had taken on a concerning angry red, or the light in the fridge was blinking nefariously. The full moon in the night sky and the nightmares on his pale face with his hands tight around the bed sheet or Harry's arm, the midnight movie marathons with too much alcohol and his head falling asleep on Harry's shoulder.  
  
He wasn't sure why but in that moment as he had stared at the blank expanse of wood all he could think was that he finally understood, if only a little. Draco didn't want to stop _those_ kinds of kisses, kisses from people he didn't know, people he couldn't predict, people who couldn't disappoint him because he didn't care enough about them in the first place. He wanted to soar through the nights with hands on his body and voices in his ear, a drink blurring the edges, and he wanted it all gone by morning - like it had been nothing but a dream. Maybe it was the war. Maybe it was because of Ethan, maybe the man _had_ broken his heart when he left for Germany. But the why didn't really matter, did it? What mattered was that Draco wouldn't even articulate what he wanted from his ex-boyfriend. All he could do was stare at Harry and utter half sentences that didn't really say anything at all and make the man sleep on the couch whenever he stayed the night.   
  
And then there were the looks that Harry couldn't stop thinking about. The ones Draco had been casting him lately, the long quiet ones that hinted that maybe the other man was thinking things that he hadn't thought on before - whispering the reminder of all those touches, all those nights, and more importantly days. Days where Draco stuck just as close to him as he did when the sun slept and the moon sailed. The other man never shoved Harry into darkness, into the parts of his life that he could pretend were a dream.   
  
In the end he had cancelled his shame of a date, downed two whiskeys at the empty kitchen table, and picked at left over chicken from two nights ago before grabbing his keys and fleeing the confines of his flat once it became apparent that Draco wasn't coming home anytime soon. He had driven for what felt like hours, trying to force his mind to make connections that weren't to be had, to just suddenly _know_ where Draco had gone off to and what he was thinking and feeling.  
  
Turning down the road that led him to Draco's plot of land hadn't been a conscious decision, it had been more of a last ditch effort as his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel - and now as his feet turned round the bend of trees, he almost didn't believe his own eyes as the figure of his flatmate came into view. He hadn't actually thought that he'd be here, that he'd be sitting in the grass with his arms looped over his knees and a bottle dangling from his fingertips as he stared off into the distance. The man was still in his black suit from before, the tie hanging undone and shirttails untucked, the jacket discarded and the fabric clinging to his body wrinkled - his hair a mess like his fingers had been constantly tugging on the locks and his middle finger was tapping rhythmically against the glass bottle.   
  
"Aren't you supposed to be out with Archives?" Draco drawled without glancing over at him, his gray eyes fixed on the dipping skyline that was melting red and orange and yellow.  
  
Harry faltered for half a second before taking a deep breath and closing the distance between them, the ground and air surprisingly warm and pleasant as he sunk to the grass beside him. "Canceled it."  
  
Draco nodded as he lifted the bottle and took a long drink, his free hand reaching into the box beside him and procuring another bottle of beer for Harry.  
  
"Thanks." He smiled and took it, a quick mutter under his breath popping the top off. "What are you doing out here?"  
  
"Working." The blonde nodded once towards the potions text lying beside him - unopened and untouched.  
  
"Oh." Taking a long drink, Harry fiddled with the label that was curling from the beads of moister clinging to it as he pondered what to say - all his well thought out speeches and planned actions falling away the moment he had entered Draco's magically heated bubble, making it all seem so impossible once more. "Look...about this afternoon -"  
  
"Forget it."  
  
"But I-"

"Really Potter, forget it." Draco glanced sideways at him before turning back towards the skyline and pulling another drink between his lips as Harry swallowed a heavy sigh. He had already taken his shears in hand and snipped their argument away, pushing it out of his mind and choosing never to look at it again. He was going to pretend it never happened, he was going to just go back to how things always were between them. The realization left Harry feeling angry as the other man took another sip, his milky throat working as he swallowed.  
  
_This_ was their problem. Not the insanity of their past. Not all the men. Not Ethan. This - this pushing away, this pretending the things between them weren't happening, weren't changing. And it didn't even matter anymore if Draco didn't feel the same way, if perhaps he really only wanted Harry close as a friend, because he couldn't do this anymore. 

  
Sucking in a breath as his thumb bent the sodden label back off the glass, Harry stared down into his bottle for courage - _no regrets_ , he reminded himself. "I don't want to forget it." He said quietly. "I want...I want us to -"  
  
"To what Harry? Talk about it?" Draco sneered, his wrist flicking as he vanished his empty bottle and snagged a new one with a jerk. "I think you about covered it all already."  
  
"I haven't actually." His throat felt tight as he set the beer down in the long grass, curling his fingers tight around the base to keep it from tipping as he pondered how best to explain it without scaring the shit of the other man and making him run for the hills. Because Harry highly doubted that just blurting out that he was hopelessly in love with him would do an ounce of good. Draco might laugh and act like it was joke, he might stare and blink and look away before shutting down, he might shake his head and walk away...   
  
Harry knew him well enough to know that while Draco _wasn't_ a coward, that he didn't run from things any more, he _was_ uncomfortable with his own emotions that delved deeper than the surface. He laughed and snickered and glowered at friends and strangers, he fucked and lent his body without a thought. But he also purchased more muggle gadgets than was healthy and watched Bond with a funny air about him - holding his breath as the man saved the innocents and rescued the women he had come to care for at the time, looking away for the briefest of moments when he pulled a trigger with a shot that rang loud and exaggerated as nameless bad guys fell to the ground.  
  
It was odd to think that maybe he had learned the most about the other man by watching him watch James Bond. Learned the most by the things he purchased and how he used them to relate to Harry...  
  
"Draco, the thing is...you're a bit difficult to understand, you know. You always have been, you were always good at keeping me guessing. Even when we were young, but I think it's worse now. Harder...to really know what you're thinking."  
  
Draco frowned at his drink, a deep line carved into his forehead. "It's called having decorum Potter."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you just don't know how to say what you’re thinking...what your feeling."  
  
The blonde shifted before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Is this about me fucking around again? Your odd roundabout way of telling me I'm a slut with some sort of emotional complex?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Good. I don't much care for that word."  
  
"Slut?"  
  
"Complex, makes me think of fucking shrinks and their idiot views on the way my mind turns." Draco flicked the cap he had been rolling absentmindedly between his fingers into the grass, a sneer on his lips that hinted that maybe there _had_ been psychiatrists in his past - making him lay on leather couches and trying to analyze him as he glared and told them to fuck off in a number of different languages.   
  
The mental image lurched both painful and humorous in his stomach, a small smile contending on his lips as he pictured a younger Draco with his snarky mouth and petulant air. He never would have put himself in therapy, it had to have been a part of his parole after the war. God, Harry almost felt sorry for the men and women who had been assigned to his case. But he was getting sidetracked with his hands sweating against his leg, his heart pounding in his chest, and he needed to stop mentally stalling and gather his courage and do what he should have done days ago. Weeks ago. Months ago. Years ago...  
  
He fidgeted as he fingered the bottle and cleared his throat. "Well in any case I'm not talking about all the men. Or about Ethan. I'm talking about you and...and me."  
  
Draco silently shifted his gaze to meet Harry's, his lips wet from the beer and his eyes heavy, his jaw sliding forward like he was physically blocking his mouth from forming any audible words. He looked determined and lost, confused and uncertain all at the same time.  
  
Harry smiled softly, his fingers reaching to lightly touch Draco's jaw, his courage pumping stronger, pulling him deeper when the other man didn't pull away - didn't even look away, not for a second, his gray eyes darkening and drowning out the sound of nature around them.  
  
"Harry -" His voice quivered with uncertainly, his eyes darting down as Harry brushed his thumb along the outer swell of the other man's bottom lip.  
  
"I still remember where we were when things changed for me. We were at Pansy's, I think it was her birthday and you were wearing those navy robes -"  
  
"I don't wear navy." Draco interjected and Harry grinned as he felt his body tip nearer, his blood pumping hot through his veins and in his ears and he wondered if Draco could hear it. If he could hear the beat of his heart, the thrum in his blood. He wondered if Draco felt it rushing through his own body in a matching rush of nerves and excited anticipation. They were a match in so many things, opposites in everything else, aligning perfectly, complementing wonderfully. Where Harry lacked Draco stood strong and the same was true for the other way around....and in this, Merlin, Harry could only pray they matched.  
  
"You did. They were new, you kept tugging at the sleeve when you thought no one was looking and you unbuttoned the top collar as we were talking. You were complaining about the increased price of Chinese chomping cabbage."   
  
The sun had been shining hot, Draco's face had been flushed a lovely pink, his tone an exasperated huff as he batted at invisible insects and tried to not pull on the collar of his robes that Harry was pretty sure had been a gift from someone. The back garden had been crowded with few people he knew and dozens that Draco did but still the blonde sequestered himself against a tree and chose to lament his potion sells because of _the damn fucking cabbage_ to Harry. They had ended up drinking too much and Draco had smiled sloppily over at him as they snuck round the house and into the wine cellar - where Draco preceded to unburden Pansy's family of various bottles of prestigious vintage.   
  
It was the night Draco vowed to turn Harry into a wine aficionado (or at least not such of an uncultured plebeian who thought wine from a box was quite good). The night Harry had tasted his first Merlot that he actually liked and the night he had shown Draco his first film (Dr. No...which in hindsight probably wasn't the wisest move). The night he finally admitted to himself as he listened to Draco huff and rant and swat at flies that he had fallen for the other man.   
  
"Chomping cabbage?" Draco murmured and Harry could have sworn that the other man's breath was a little shallower, his cheeks just a little pinker. "That...that was years ago."  
  
Harry nodded and lifted his gaze from Draco's lips to his eyes. "Yes."  
  
Draco sucked in a breath and blinked quickly, the sun sinking beneath the horizon in one last splash of dying color around them. "You're being rather enigmatic, Potter. It's highly unnerving." He whispered.  
  
"No, it's simply really." Harry leaned closer as he repeated his words from earlier at the tailors, his thumb brushing along the blondes jaw before slipping his hand down to curve possessively around the back of the man's neck. He tipped his head, bringing them close enough that their breath mingled and warmed the space between them as he visually traced the sharp angles of his cheeks, the slightly parted fullness of his lips, his impossible gray eyes - the flecks of blue and gold bright up close.   
  
"Don't be with Ethan. Because things _have_ changed. For a long time...I've wanted..." He trailed off and swallowed, his courage faltering even though there was no turning back - not with his hand holding his face, his gaze full of the words that weren't coming off his tongue but with the half confession ringing loud and clear between them anyway. Not with their lips nearly brushing and Draco's eyelashes fluttering like he couldn't decide if he should close them or stare wide eyed at him until he inevitably went crossed eyed.  
  
"What do you want?" Draco breathed and there was nothing hard or needled about his tone - his voice flayed open and making Harry's heart constrict as something fluttered in his stomach.  
  
"You know. You have to _know_ already..." He murmured in a breathy gush that pushed out of him and before he could ruin it with his own fumbling stutters, Harry breathed deep and did what he'd been dying to do for years now - he leaned in and kissed him, slanting his lips over Draco's whose parted in a breath of surprise that got muffled and lost inside him.   
  
He distantly heard and felt Draco's drink clatter to the ground as his grip slipped and spilled beer over the ground, his pale hand pressing flat against Harry's chest like he was going to push him away for all but a moment before his fingers curled tight into his shirt - scratching his skin and heightening his senses further.  
  
Using his free hand, Harry's fingers found their way into Draco's hair, twisting in the silky locks and pulling gently, his mouth opening wider as Draco's nails sank deeper, his heart soaring with the feel and taste and reality that he wasn't being shoved away. He pressed closer, savored Draco's quiet gasp, his tongue sneaking out to press against his as he kissed him harder, deeper, closer - his hands trying to tug him ever nearer as Draco let out a strangled broken sound.  
  
"Harry..." He whispered in a dizzy sort of manner, his hand that wasn't squished between them coming up to rest tentatively against Harry's cheek - first one finger, then two, the third tapping in an offbeat rhythm. Trembling.   
  
"Don't be with him. Or anyone else." Harry muttered between kisses with Draco's eyes squeezed tightly closed, his lashes dusting his cheeks. "Be with me." There were more words on his tongue, things that needed to be said, that needed to be made clear, but the man's lips were like a drug and he was instantly addicted - every nerve in his body catching fire as the other man tensed, let out another soft sound that cracked in the middle, and pressed closer on his own accord.   
  
Kissing him. Draco Malfoy was _kissing him_ and for once Harry wasn't dreaming.


	8. Waking From Dreams

  
  
  
  
Harry had imaged this moment so many times over the last several years that it almost seemed surreal now - like an odd little montage of all his fantasies. Except no matter how his mind had spun it, nothing had come close to the reality. The reality that he was on his back in a grassy field with the dusky night falling around them and Draco pressed over him - the blonde's chest pressed snug against his so tightly that he could feel the offbeat thud of his pulse, like a war drum rattling down into his own heart. The other man's firm thighs spread over his, straddling him, pressing their hips together and making Harry shudder and moan every time Draco moved or twitched.  
  
The reality that the lips on his were _Draco's_ \- warm, petal soft lips, that kissed him fervently, desperately, hungrily. Like he was afraid to pull back and find it all an illusion. But it was real. Harry made sure of it. He dug his fingers into the silky soft hair, pulling tight and shuddering at the groan it tore from Draco's throat that vibrated against his tongue. He kissed with all of himself, pouring everything into it, their teeth clanking and noses smashing now and then with Harry's glasses cutting into Draco's cheekbone. His hand that wasn't busy pulling and pushing and angling in Draco's hair, trailed down his back and around his waist - touching every inch he could reach.

"Draco." His voice rasped, low and graveling and sounding nothing like him, as his lips moved wetly over Draco's jaw and onto his long milky neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin and sucking with a groan. "God you're so amazing."   
  
Draco bit his already swollen lip and tipped his head up to the heavens, his eyes squeezing tightly closed as his hands curled into the grass - his breath shallow in his chest like he couldn't quite catch any air as Harry mapped out his throat. He nipped his skin and Draco moaned and pushed his hips down against Harry's - rubbing against him in a rush of pleasure that made the last ounce of blood in his head rush south.  
  
"Fuck." Harry hissed against him, licking his skin and grasping the blonde's hip tightly as he tried to keep his wits about him. "I want -" Draco's mouth silenced him, his hand pulling back on Harry’s hair until he had dragged him up far enough to attack his mouth - kissing him hard and wantonly and Harry wondered fleetingly if this was how Draco always kissed. If this was what his flings felt with him, like they were being consumed by cold fire that melted their insides.

He whimpered as he twisted with all his strength, pulling Draco beneath him and slowly backing away with lingering kisses that he was having a hard time stopping - his thumb brushing over the blondes red and wet lips that weren't that way from his own teeth anymore. But from Harry's - _he_ did that and the tousled mess of his hair and the kissed puffy quality of his mouth left he darker man swimming through heat and desire as the man's hazy gray eyes fluttered open.   
  
"Harry?" His lips were open as his chest heaved in an effort to catch his breath, something that looked mildly like nervousness flitting through his gaze.  
  
Harry caught his lips in a gentle brush of a kiss before he smiled down at him and rolled to his knees, his feet unsteady beneath him and threatening to collapse as he held his hand down to his flatmate. "Come on."   
  
Draco opened his mouth and shut it, cocking his head as he stared at the outstretched fingers, his hand that had fallen from Harry's back lying limp above his head before the long slim digits curled tightly into his palm. The action so small and so telling, making Harry's stomach twist in nervous anticipation. But then the potions master sucked in air through his nose and pulled his knees up as he reached his hand into Harry's - their fingers wrapping strong around each other’s as he was hauled to his feet.  
  
Harry grinned as he wrapped his arm around Draco's waist, pulling him tight against him and pressing their mouths together in another kiss that he quickly lost himself in. It was too easy to do, drowning in Draco's kiss felt as good and as natural as breathing, like it was something he was meant to always be doing. It took several long moments with his hands wandering over skin he'd yet been allowed to touch as he tipped head long into the sensations of Draco’s mouth and tongue and the feeling of him all around him before he was able to pry himself away - his lips trailing over his cheek and hovering close to Draco's ear as he tried to reform his thoughts and remember the reason he had stopped them in the first place.   
  
"Hold on." He whispered and with a quick kiss to the curve of Draco's ear, he was spinning, the air squeezing around them and spitting them out with a little stumble in their living room.   
  
Draco cursed as he regained his footing, the sudden apparition throwing him off balance and Harry took the opportunity to pull him back into his arms, backing him up against the nearest wall and pinning him there with his own body. Draco's arms came around his shoulders and Harry opened his mouth to tell him - Merlin to tell him so many things - but the blonde was leaning forward and sealing their lips together and it was all a muddled mess of wet warmth and feeling like he was falling from a great height and a wicked tongue that made him feel like he was going to fall apart right then and there with nothing but a kiss and the man he'd wanted for so long in his arms.  
  
Finally in his arms.  
  
His fingers felt unsteady as they worked their way between their bodies and to the button's on Draco's shirt - the midnight black material slowly parting to reveal snowy white skin beneath that burned under his fingers as each little button popped free. He pulled back to watch, unable to help himself from needing to see it happening, his lip caught between his teeth as he stared at the exposed flesh, his fingers running over the man's lower abdomen as the shirt hung free and parted fully - his hand splaying over the hard muscles that jumped at the touch as Draco's breath caught.  
  
"You are the most beautiful sight I've ever seen." He whispered huskily as he fell to his knees, his eyes darting up to find Draco's as his fingers lingered on the skin just above his trousers. "I've wanted you for so long." He pressed a kiss right above his belly button, his body spinning with desire as Draco stared down at him with lidded eyes that were dark and foggy - his hands moving to cradle the back of Harry's head, not pushing, not pulling, just resting there with his fingers slipping through his dark curls.  
  
"Harry." He sounded far away, breathless and motionless and it occurred to Harry as his lips parted and sucked a kiss onto Draco's hard stomach that that was all Draco had said since he'd first kissed him.  
  
Just his name. Over and over again. Whenever there was a break, a lull, an uncertainty.  
  
He smiled with his mouth against his hot skin that smelled like a potions lab and old parchment. He smiled because Draco was _saying his name_ \- whispering it, breathing it. He was saying his name when Harry thought that more often than not the man didn't even remember the names of the men he brought home. He was saying his name like he had woken from a dream to find it still playing out in real life.   
  
The sound of it gave him courage, more so than all the kisses had, and his fingers found the man's belt without hesitation - unclasping it quickly and popping the button on his trousers free before pulling on the zipper. His mouth trailed down, kissing and licking his firm stomach, nuzzling into the sparse patch of blonde hair that trailed down like an arrow as he gripped the black trousers and pulled - his own breath hitching as the man's skin beneath was revealed.   
  
Pale - so very pale - thighs, sharp knees, hips with jutting bones that he had to press his fingers into as he turned his face and took in the sight before him. He licked his lips as he visually traced the length of Draco's cock - his prick standing hard and full, pointing up and flushing red at the tip. He was long and thick and fucking Merlin, _hard_. Hard for him. For Harry.  
  
God he was...  
  
"Perfect." He rasped and his lips were pressing kisses along the shaft before the word have even finished leaving his tongue. Grasping the base with one hand, he reached down with his other and adjusted his own trousers that were painfully tight against him. The hands cradling his head tightened with fingers digging into his scalp, as he moved his hand up and down - savoring the velvety feel against his callused palm before opening his lips and sucking the tip into his mouth. He moaned as he moved his mouth down, taking more of him in, something hot washing through him in a flood that consumed him as Draco groaned and bucked his hips gently.  
  
It had been too long since he had last done this but it was like riding a bike, all of it coming back to him in a rush as he bobbed his head and moved his hand, keeping his rhythm slow and steady - sucking with hallowed cheeks and pressing his tongue flat against the head before each downward motion. God he could get used to this. He could get addicted to this - the soft sounds that left the other man's lips adding fuel to the fire. He pressed his hand firmly against himself as he moaned around his mouthful and forced his eyes to blink open and up at Draco - wanting to see his face as he tasted the precum drip from the slit and smear across his tongue.  
  
"Harry." Draco gasped, his fingers tightening painfully, his face flushed pink with his hair hanging in his eyes as his head dropped heavily forward, his red mouth open with little pants of breath like he was trying to keep his breathing under control but was failing miserably.  
  
Something shifted inside him at the sound of it. It snapped like a blow had been dealt to a fragile binding and Harry was back on his feet and tugging him into a deep kiss in the next second. Their arms moved like opposite magnets around each other - pulling nearer and kissing fanatically as they stumbled down the hall without breaking away from each other’s lips, Harry's palm connecting sharply with his bedroom door and Draco groaning brokenly as the bed caught his knees and sent them tumbling down atop the mattress. He blinked as he caught himself on his hands and stared down at the man lying half on his bed - his body naked except for the shirt clinging to his shoulders, his trousers and boxers and socks and shoes mysteriously gone.  
  
He wondered if he had actually vanished the clothing or if Draco had or if he had somehow missed the moment the clothes were torn from his legs and feet. But it didn't matter because Draco was scooting back on his bed after only a moment’s hesitation while staring up at him with a heated look - his hands reaching towards Harry who needed no other encouragement. He ripped his shirt over his head and all but fell on him, their skin colliding with his body tingling from head to toe as their lips found each other’s once more. Their limbs tangled, leaving them in a heaving knot as they devoured each other - Draco's hands in his hair, on his back, his hip, running in a circle over his waist before his nimble fingers were prying his trousers open and plunging inside.  
  
"Oh god, Draco." He gasped as the man's sure fingers gripped him, his boxers already wet and his eyes nearly going cross eyed at the intense wave of pleasure that washed over him.   
  
"Take them off." Draco whispered, his tone so quiet Harry would have missed it if the man's mouth hadn't been on his neck, hovering near his ear with wet licks and lingering kisses.   
  
Harry nodded and wiggled out of his clothing, his feet kicking off his shoes, and after a brief struggle that forced him to unwind from the man below him, found himself completely exposed - kneeling on the bed between Draco's legs as the man stared at him with a heavy gaze that slowly swept the length of his body. He felt horribly inadequate in that moment, his hands clenching uselessly at his sides as he remembered all the men that had come and gone through their flat.  
  
All of them unbelievably handsome and sculpted.  
  
But Draco didn't frown in disgust at his plainly average body that was luckily at least in good shape because of his Auror training, he simply bit his full bottom lip and reached for Harry again, grasping the back of his neck and tugging him down as he pressed up into him - knocking their lips together and bringing them fully into contact. The groan that rolled through him at the feel of their naked bodies sliding together couldn't have solely been from him - it rattled through his chest and made his heart thud and his head spin as Draco spread his legs further and pressed his hips up into his.   
  
And then he was lost.  
  
His hands slid over smooth, hard skin with sharp angles and dipped into smooth valleys as Draco's hands mirrored his own exploration, their hips rocking in a rhythm that spiked dangerously through his body as their cocks slid back and forth - wetness growing between them and sticking them together with sweat and precum. And he couldn't stop kissing him, couldn't tear his mouth away even to catch his breath that was absently aching in his lungs. Couldn't stop moving his lips and tongue and mapping out the groves of his mouth even as Draco bent his knees and arched up into him - wiggling until Harry gasped loudly into the other man's mouth as his cock slipped between the firm mounds of the man's arse.   
  
He shuddered with need and pressed his forehead to the blondes as he tried to keep from seeing white at just the feel and thought that he was so close to him - so close to penetrating him, to moving inside him, and connecting them in the most intimate of ways. "Draco, I -"  
  
"Fuck me Harry." Draco said lowly and Harry groaned at the sound of it - at the words themselves, words he never thought he'd hear but god, how he'd fantasized about it.   
  
"Yeah? Yes, god yes." Harry murmured disjointedly, nodding his head and kissing the blondes lips as he tried to simultaneously reach over and grope around for his bedside drawer. His hand finally stumbled across the cool jar he was searching for and Harry pulled back as he gripped it and brought it towards them, Draco's eyes blinking open and flicking first to the ceiling, then to Harry, then back to the ceiling as he panted for air.   
  
Tracing his free hand down Draco's half exposed arm and onto the skin that was still covered with the black shirt that was sagging on his forearms, Harry smiled at him before placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw - something that felt like apprehension washing slowly over the other man in gentle waves that Harry could read in his flushed but shuttered face and in the way his breath was hitching in his chest and pushing harshly past his lips. "Draco, we don't...I don't have to..."  
  
Draco shook his head, blinked quickly, and turned towards him - a small but real smile pulling up his lips. "I want to." He said quietly and kissed Harry quickly before he pushed at his chest and broke their embrace - quickly shrugging out of his shirt before his long willowy frame was rearranging itself until he was lying on his stomach with his face half buried in the pillow. "I want to." He repeated as Harry stared at his back, his eyes tracking down the swell of his arse and dip of his thighs.  
  
Harry felt momentarily stuck, his eyes glued to all that exposed skin with his heart thrumming in his chest as he tried to decide what exactly had shifted around them. "Draco..."  
  
Draco closed his eyes and shook his head again as he spread his legs, his hips pushing back and exposing himself to Harry's hungry gaze. "Harry." He whispered, his hand clutching impossibly tight into the pillow and his lip pulled between his teeth to be further abused.  
  
There was something about it - about the way he said his name coupled with the white knuckle grip he had on the pillow that tipped Harry over the edge. That squeezed his heart painfully and made everything slow to a crawl. He brushed his hand through his white blonde hair, trailed it down his slender neck and along his bony spine before reaching the swell of his bottom. His fingers hesitated for all but a moment before tracing further down, curving under the globes before moving carefully between them. He pressed lightly against the furrowed flesh with his lip between his teeth and his breath trapped in his throat.  
  
Then Draco moaned and pushed back and Harry felt his pulse thud as he smashed an off center kiss to the corner of Draco's mouth that wasn't lost amongst the fluffy pillow and pressed harder - his finger slipping through and into impossibly tight heat. "Oh fuck." He groaned against the blonde’s cheek. "God Draco." His mouth trailed a wet path down his neck and over his shoulder, kissing his sharp shoulder blades before assaulting the ridges of his spine - kissing each bony knob and licking the skin in between. He lavished his entire back, one hand sliding up into Draco's hair and gripping lightly as the thumb of his other one rubbed over the man's pucker again and again - dipping slightly inside before retreating to tease him further.   
  
By the time his mouth reached the swell of Draco's arse, the other man was nearly shaking beneath his hands, a sweat having broken out on his lower back and his breathing loud and harsh against the pillow. "Harry." Draco whimpered as he paused, his hands spreading his buttocks wide and his own breath growing harsh as he stared.  
  
Merlin he couldn't believe that he was here. That he was being allowed to look and touch and taste. That Draco was a mess beneath him - still all sharp angles but also soft and compliant. Like he was melting, breaking under Harry's touch. The blondes pale shoulders pressed into the mattress as he gasped and rounded his back, rising a little onto his knees with his arse angling back as Harry groaned and kissed him - right there, on his small pink opening.  
  
Harry knew he sounded sloppy, indecent, knew somewhere in a corner of his mind that he probably shouldn't be moaning as much as he was as he kissed and licked and slipped his stiffened tongue in and out of Draco's hole - his fingers digging indents into the man's firm arse as he held him open. He lost track of himself, of anything else beside the feel and taste and sound of Draco gasping with his muscles pulled tight and trembling. His fingers came into play, somehow how already wet and slick though he wasn't sure how he managed to unscrew the jar and dip them inside, and felt his cock jump and leak against the bed sheets as he pressed into tight heat - licking around his two fingers as they disappeared.  
  
"Oh. God." Draco hissed as he reached back, his hand wrapping around his own prick and squeezing. "Fuck. _Harry_. Now."  
  
"Mhmm." Harry groaned, his fingers twisting as he pumped his hand and blinked his eyes open, his chin wet with spit as he leant against Draco's thigh. He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his ribcage as he swallowed thickly and pulled back, his shoddy vision swimming as he gazed up at his flatmate - wondering if it was possible to freeze this moment in time because it was perfect in every sense of the word.   
  
Draco Malfoy lying before him with miles of smooth skin, slicked with sweat, soft with compliance, voice hoarse with need, crying _his_ name.  
  
Pulling his fingers free, Harry slicked himself up before reaching forward and tugging on Draco's shoulder, trying to turn him back over - wanting to see his face and kiss his lips as he slid inside him for the first time.  
  
"No...like this." Draco said softly, his hand still twisted in a death grip on the pillow, gray eyes avoiding his.  
  
Harry shook his head and pressed a kiss to the base of his neck. "Draco...fuck, let me see you."  
  
"Harry." He whispered, his name sounding more like a plea than anything else and Harry couldn't help but wonder why the man was suddenly ridged once more with his eyes screwed shut and grip going shockingly tight on his poor pillow.  
  
"Please?" Harry asked, his hands - obscenely slick - running in long sweeps up the man’s back and down his arms and causing shivers to follow in their wake. It was hard to articulate why he needed to do this face to face. Maybe to reassure himself for the millionth time that this was real, that it was happening. Maybe he needed to ground himself in Draco's impossible eyes and taste his moans. Maybe he just needed to see if his face twisted with pleasure like he imagined it would or if his expression would be something he couldn't ever have conjured up. Maybe he needed to make sure Draco's memory never slipped, that he would never lull and forget who it was in bed with him.   
  
Maybe he was being ridiculous. Insecure.  
  
Draco was quiet for a moment, dragging in hard breaths and blinking at his hand on the pillow. Seconds that felt like hours ticked by as Harry nuzzled his neck and felt the first stirrings of unease crawl up his spine but then Draco clenched his jaw, pried his fingers loose, and twisted - his mouth crashing into Harry's in a crushing kiss that left him feeling thoroughly consumed. The blonde's back hit the mattress in a tangle with Harry's arms as he told himself not to over think the little slip, the tiny lapse.   
  
And then all thought fell away from him as Draco's long legs wrapped around his waist, his head angling back against the pillow and his lips dropping open in a gasp as Harry lined himself up and pressed forward - inching his cock slowly inside the other man's loosened passage and groaning loudly with his heart in his ears and his eyes fixed on Draco's face.  
  
Draco's pale lashes lowered and screwed shut over his darkened gray irises. His hand flew up and gripped the pillow above his head with his other one latching onto Harry's neck. His cheeks flushed deeper, his mouth opened and shut, and opened and shut again on near silent moans, like he was desperately trying to keep it closed but was unable to. Blissful agony. That was what was written all over his face, a sharp cry leaving his lips as Harry slid in the last few inches, his hands clasping Harry's cheeks between his palms and craning his neck to press their lips together - muffling his broken moans.  
  
The kiss was wet and sloppy and Harry gripped the other man's hip as he pressed deep and groaned against the tongue in his mouth. Draco was still holding his face as he eased back and rocked forward, pleasure the likes of which he couldn't remember ever feeling this intensely raging through him - his hand sliding up the man's leg until he was holding his knobby knee and squeezing. The heat in his gut, the shocks spreading through his limbs, the noises ringing in his ears that couldn't be completely silenced by their messy kissing trying to pull him deeper, to press faster, harder, to finally just _take_.  
  
To rock the bed until the headboard slammed into the wall, until the bedsprings groaned and squawked, until Draco's moans and cries reached a fever pitch - drowning out every other night, with every other man, until the blonde couldn't remember anything but them.  
  
"Harry, harder." Draco gasped like this unnamed (possessive, over whelming) thing in his chest that was trying to make him drive the blonde into the bed was encompassing Draco as well - his long slim fingers digging through Harry's curls and ankles hooking on the small of his back.   
  
"Yeah?" Harry grinned, pulling back just enough so he could blink down into Draco's face with his hair starting to stick to his damp forehead. He was breathtaking, just like always, but even more so now, the last bit of resistance and closed off shutters on his usually reserved face having fallen completely away.  
  
Draco was open with red, splotchy cheeks, and gray eyes damp and staring up at him like he'd only dared to dream about before.  
  
"God yes." Draco cried and jerked, his mouth (that fucking perfect mouth) moving to press against Harry's shoulder, his white teeth sinking in lightly until Harry could feel the sharp sting of it. "Fuck me Harry, fuck me harder."  
  
And how could he say no to that? He let loose his last bit of restraint, told himself that there would be time to take this slow later - next time - and took him. The headboard smacked, the bedsprings sang, Draco clawed at his back and cried into his ear, and Harry was sure that he was surely going to explode at any moment because, god, he had never felt so good in his entire life. He breathed deep the musky scent of sex, licked sweat off Draco's neck, captured his lips in a demanding kiss, and plundered him. He felt a hand snake between them, felt Draco pump his cock with the head rubbing against his stomach, watched the man's jaw clench tightly, his eyes clouding over and staring unseeing at the ceiling as he gasped.  
  
Harry gripped the bedsheet, fucked him harder, and pressed his thumb to the man's bottom lip as it started to tremble. "Draco, yes, come for me."  
  
"You too." Draco ordered, his hand pulling on the back of Harry's neck until they were kissing again, his hole clenching impossibly tight around his cock and making his green eyes roll into the back of his head, wet sticky warmth splashing against his stomach as Draco panted and let out a strangled cry into his mouth.  
  
And he did. He fell right alongside him, tumbling down into a shockingly intense orgasm that rolled through him endlessly - his arms clutching the blonde tightly as he pressed in as deep as he could and rode the tsunami that was his release. "Draco." He gasped into the man's neck, kissing his tender skin with his fingers combing through his damp hair.  
  
He felt boneless. Weightless. Unbearably happy. He felt like laughing and crying all at once. He felt like falling asleep right where he was, still lying on top of his flatmate and buried deep inside him, and starting all over again - kissing his body from head to toe, licking and tasting the new flavors his skin was sure to hold now. He wanted to fuck him again and he wanted Draco to press inside him, to feel that impossible burn, to be stretched and filled with Draco over him - pressing him into the bed, pinning him down with his weight, and keeping him there.  
  
"Draco." He murmured again, sleepily kissing his collarbone, a stupid smile overtaking his face.  
  
Draco's arm fell from where it lay covering his eyes, his head turning and nose nudging into Harry's, a drop that tasted salty clinging to his lip as he pressed his mouth to Harry's. "Harry." He whispered, blinking at him for a split second before he was kissing him again - slow and tender and making Harry's heart swell past breaking.


	9. In The Light Of Day

 

  
  
Harry knew exactly why Ron was grimacing at him with his blue eyes narrowed and nose wrinkled like he had smelled something foul drift by. It was oddly comical looking, his lips twitching like he was having a hard time deciding if he was disgusted or relieved or annoyed or happy...maybe all of the above. But regardless of the moods switching over his ruddy face, Harry knew exactly why.

  
It was because he looked like a lunatic.  


It was the smile, the stupid, sloppy, lovesick, dripping, sugary sweet smile that was overtaking his entire face. But he couldn't help it because Merlin...why should he even try? Not when he was this blissfully happy. Not when he could still recall the scent of sex and Draco's cologne on his bedsheets when he had stirred awake that morning. When he'd blinked his groggy eyes open to see the fuzzy shape of what Harry found out moments later was a pink pig Post-it note stuck to a mug of steaming coffee on his bedside table after shoving his glasses onto his nose.

  
His damn smile grew just thinking about it as he slipped his hand into his pocket and thumbed the edge of the note. It hadn't been as good as waking up to a disheveled, naked, Draco Malfoy (like he had been hoping and planning in the muddle of his sleeping mind) but it was a decent second, because if nothing else, it confirmed that it was real. That it _had_ happened and that he hadn't fallen off the deep end and was now pathetically wrapped up in his own hallucinations. Still, regardless of the note, he had called out Draco's name and glanced around with the vain hope that the blonde would pop his head in and they could spend the morning shagging. When nothing happened he'd picked up the note and laid back on the pillow that smelt like the other man and felt a warmth spread throughout his entire body with Draco's touch still humming through his veins as he had read the neatly printed words.  
  


_Harry,_  
  
I have somethings that I need to take care of but I'll be home early this evening. Dinner?  
  
-Draco  
  


There was something scratched out at the bottom, a single line that Draco had scribbled over repeatedly with one of the blue pens he'd bought last year (a whole box of them because apparently _, "Their brilliant! Why the fuck are we still using quills and ink when all you have to do is click and write? I mean hell Potter, their self-inking!"_ ). Harry had tried and failed to read it numerous times - while in bed, while drinking his coffee, while eating his breakfast - but it was all for not. Whatever the blonde had thought to write and then wished he could have taken back before ink had touched paper was to remain a pricking mystery.  


His mind today was much too active for such a mystery.  


It was spinning with the memory of last night. Filled to the brink with Draco's skin, smooth and porcelain, with Draco's taste, musky and warm and minty, with his sounds, pitched low and deep, with the cadence of his name falling from Draco's lips over and over again. He kept thinking about how after they'd caught their breath Draco had kissed him slowly, tenderly, with their legs entwined and arms holding tight until he couldn't recall anything outside of the taste and feel of the other man. How he just kept moving his lips over his until they were barely even kissing anymore, but simply exchanging soft sighs with gentle brushes until sleep had claimed them in gentle waves that lulled him under with Draco's pulse beneath his fingertips.  


"You look deranged." Ron announced, pointing a finger at Harry's chest and narrowing one eye further.

  
Hermione scoffed and poured them all a second cup of tea. "He looks happy Ronald."  


"I think you mean manic. Can someone be manically happy? Because if so then yes, Harry, you do look manically happy." Ron tipped his head and glanced at his wife who clicked her tongue and shook her head, her thick hair falling into her face and partially obscuring her smile.  


Harry chuckled and dropped a dollop of milk into his tea. "Not manic. Just really, really happy." He clarified, the warmth in the pit of his stomach that had settled there the moment he'd woken up that morning still curling tight in his stomach, making him feel fuzzy around the edges and yes...okay, maybe a bit deliriously happy. Was that close to manic?  


Hermione grinned at him and brushed her hair back, her fingers combing through the knots quickly as she tied it up with a flick of her wrist. "Of course you are, you should be! Now out with it, I want all the details."  


"No." Ron shook his head quickly, his teacup rattling on the table as he turned quickly to face Harry. "No. No details. Don't you dare."  


"Oh honestly Ron calm down, I didn't mean _those_ kind of details, I'm sure there's plenty for Harry to share that are safe to talk about around Hugo and your delicate sensibilities. Aren't there Harry?" Her chin fell down onto her fist, her elbow propped up on the table and her large brown eyes staring at him like she could suck out every last word they'd exchanged last night straight from his skull.  


"Er..."  


"Hey, I don't have delicate sensibilities!" Ron interjected as Harry blushed and stared down into his muddy brown tea.  


"Oh Harry." Hermione started, ignoring her husband with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Tell me you two actually talked. At least a little?"  


"Well, yeah, I mean...I told him I wanted to be with him." Harry smiled, shifting on the plush chair and sliding his gaze over to find Hugo who was trying relentlessly to force open the low cupboard door that his parents had spelled shut.  


"And?" She pressed.  


"Their _men_ Hermione. How much talking do you think they got done after Harry fawned all over him and spilled his bleeding heart love all over the place?"  


"I did not _fawn_ and what do you mean bleeding heart love? That's not even a thing."  


"It is with you." Ron snickered and Harry debated wadding up and throwing the note in his pocket at his head. But then...well then he wouldn't have it anymore and Harry sort of planned to keep it. Probably forever. God, maybe Ron should have called his love _possessive, head over heels, can't imagine ever letting go_ , _kind of want to die holding his hand like in those horrible romance novels that he may or may not have read once or twice_...but only because Pansy had left them lying about and he'd been bored and then...well the men were a bit hunky in them.  


Ugh, he could never tell Draco (or worse, Ron) he'd read them. Or that he'd thought the word _hunky_ an appropriate adjective.  


"Okay, wait, are you seriously telling me you didn't talk about anything? You just -"  


"Fucked."  


"Ron! Language." Hermione scolded, her large eyes glancing quickly to her young son, her gaze boring into him for a long moment like she was waiting to see if his first word would be _fucked!_ and therefore damaged for life. Hugo banged his little fist against the wood and babbled nonsense and Hermione slowly turned back towards the table to fix him with a stare as Harry tried not to smile.   


"But we will, we'll talk, we're having dinner tonight." Harry felt obligated to point out, that hot pool in his stomach twisting up further at the thought of seeing the other man again. The night couldn't come fast enough.  


"You mean, you're having dinner together...like you do all the time?" Ron asked, looking pointedly between his wife and friend, like he was waiting for them to realize the same thing he had.  


"That's wonderful! You should cook." Hermione beamed at him and Harry couldn't help but grin broadly in that deranged, manic sort of way that Ron obviously thought was beyond creepy.  


"You mean, like he does every night?" Ron raised his voice a little, his gaze shifting quickly between the other two seated at the table now.  


"Make it special, candles and such. Do you have candles? And wine, oh and use that tablecloth I got you for your house warming." She had that far off look in her eye again, mentally planning out his evening, his date. Merlin, his date, his first actual _date_ with Draco.  


"Yeah, I think so." Harry couldn't help but nod right along with her, swept up in the thoughts rolling into his head now - about flickering candle light and red wine and a nice dinner and Draco sitting across from him. Maybe holding his hand. Maybe kissing the back of his neck as they washed up...kissing his throat, his lips, his pale hands deftly making him come undone right there in the middle of their kitchen.  


"I repeat. Like _every night_? Seriously can no one hear me?" Ron asked exasperated, Hugo's sharp giggle ringing right along behind him like he was trying to agree with his logic.  


"It's different now Ron." She informed him and Harry bit his lip as her words sunk into him as well with a sudden sharpness.  


_Different_. 

  
Merlin that was an understatement and for the first time Harry felt a stirring of nervousness cool the warmth inside him. Because hell, she was right, they hadn't actually talked and Draco hadn't...he hadn't said _anything_. In fact he had been uncharacteristically quiet, oddly still tongued, and while Harry liked to think it was because he had been so wrapped up in their physical coupling he couldn't be sure.   


Fuck, he didn't want to be anxious about tonight, he didn't want to doubt. He wanted to stay in that warm, fuzzy place that Draco's body and kiss had sent him spiraling into. He didn't want to consider the possibility that it was only for one night. That it was just a fling. A spur of the moment mistake.   


He thumbed the note in his pocket and closed his eyes, telling himself to stop over thinking it, to stop prying apart their time together, to stop frantically trying to recall anything that might tip him off to the fact that he was about to his have his heart shattered.  


"Harry?" Hermione's tone was soft, quiet.  


"Everything all right mate?" Ron's too. Both of them suddenly haven dropped an octave and Harry knew his thoughts must be showing on his face, turning his lips down and making him appear ashen.   


"Yeah, of course." Harry forced a smile and glanced back up at them, his hand crushing the note in his palm as he told himself not to over think the moment Draco had paused and quieted and nearly killed his pillow with his grip...or about the salty taste of his lips after.  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
Pasta seemed romantic. For some reason. Harry wasn't exactly sure why but it did and thus, he was making pasta with garlic bread and sautéed mixed vegetables - a bottle of wine already uncorked and set to breathe on the table. Harry glanced back at it, at their kitchen table covered in the ivory tablecloth with the permanent wrinkles artfully set into it draping over the wood, the two tall candles flickering in the middle, the plates already set and waiting.  


It was too much. Was it? Hell, he didn't know.

  
"It's already done, just leave it alone." He muttered to himself, turning back to the hob and flipping the veggies with a quick jerk of the pan. The tricky part was timing, he didn't know when Draco would be home, what exactly _early evening_ meant but he had already cleaned the entire flat and gone grocery shopping and he was going to jump out of his skin if he didn't have anything else to occupy his mind and reading and watching the telly hadn't helped one little bit.  


So now dinner was nearly finished and the clock had just struck five and Harry was trying to figure out how best to keep all the food in prime condition as the floo flared and nearly startled him into spilling the entire pan of sizzling vegetables. He took a deep breath and held it as he listened to the even paced footsteps of his flatmate, the little squeak of the floorboard just outside the kitchen archway, the pause and hesitant step forward a moment later. It was a bit ridiculous really, he hunted down and captured evil wizards and witches all the time, willingly stepping into life threatening situations more often than anyone would think, and he was always calm, collected, and sure of himself during it. But now he wasn't any of those things, he was just fucking nervous.   


Like hand shaking on the handle of the cast iron pan nervous.  


"Harry."   


Something squeezed his heart, sharp and hot and like it was going to jump right of him and attack the poor man at just the sound of his voice saying his name. Merlin, could someone actually develop some weird fetish with hearing their own name? Because if so, Harry was sure Draco had that ability to trigger it. Extinguishing the flame and moving the pan to a cooler portion of the hob, Harry turned, unsure what exactly his first words after seeing the man again after having slept with him should be.  


"Hi." He said and mentally smacked himself. Why did that sound so lame?  


Draco stood just inside the kitchen archway, his long black robes falling elegantly over his thin frame, his hair twisted back and styled neatly - primly, like he'd been in some important meeting with witches and wizards who lived their lives dripping with money. It was odd seeing him look like that, he rarely ever did anymore. But then a small smile twitched his lips up, breaking the hardness of his appearance, and Harry felt his insides melt into a puddle of goo. "Hi." Draco replied softly.  


"I made dinner." Harry blurted out, trying and failing to stave off the blush rising up his neck and fanning out across his cheeks.   


Draco's smile widened into a smirk as his gaze flickered to the table and back to him. "I can see that."  


"Are you hungry? I wasn't sure when you'd be back, your note was rather...short, and...where did you go?" He hoped he didn't sound as nervous as he felt, his fingers twisting into the kitchen towel hanging off the handle of the hob behind him.  


"Yes, I..." Draco eyes darted down to his shoes poking out from beneath his robes - black boots with silver buckles that matched the ones holding his robes together. When he looked up Harry couldn't decide if he looked harder or softer, if he looked happy or about to shut down, and when he took three steps towards him, Harry felt like all the air was getting sucked out of the room. "I was at the Manor, visiting my mother."  


His mother? Well...that was unexpected.   


Harry had assumed it had to do with his shop, the blonde unable to go any longer on checking in on the progress Stephen had made with the cleanup. He had hoped that it had to do with Ethan, that he had met with the man to tell him that he wasn't going to be getting back together with him. Ever. But why the hell did he need to rush out of bed to meet with his mother?   


Though that explained the outfit at least...  


"Your mum? Is everything alright?" He asked, taking his own step towards him until they were exactly one pace away from each other, their arms both hanging useless by their respective sides. Merlin, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this nervous around someone, especially around Draco - not like this at least, not like his body wasn't sure if he should fall forwards into elation or start building up shields around his already over invested heart.  


But Draco was smiling still. Small and perhaps a bit sad. But still, it was there, and Harry stared at it with hope simmering hot inside him.  


"Yes, mostly. Sorry." Draco said softly and he bit his lip before letting out a sigh and reaching forward with a jerky movement to tangle his fingers through Harry's - his simple touch hot and electric. "For leaving...before you woke."  


"It’s okay." Harry smiled and squeezed his hand tightly as they stared at each other quietly.  


And then they were kissing and Harry couldn't be sure who made the first move but it hardly mattered as Draco's arms slipped around his waist, crushing him into his chest as he stole his air and slipped his tongue between his lips. It was that world titling feeling all over again, his stomach flipping and heart racing with silky hair slipping through his fingers as he wound his arms around Draco's neck to try and pull him nearer.  


"Harry...we need to talk." Draco murmured breathlessly with his lips still brushing against Harry's, his hands grasping the small of his back tightly with palms that burned Harry even through his shirt.  


"Yeah." Harry nodded, playing with the small hairs at the base of Draco's skull, his mouth already fully sealing against the blondes again. Fuck, but how were they ever supposed to have a full conversation now that Harry knew what kissing Draco felt like, what it did to him, what it made him feel. If there was a way to bottle the elation and warmth and nervous excitement coursing through him, he knew he could sell it for a fortune, that the world could get drunk on it.     


He spared a single thought for the pasta growing cold in the dish by the hob before was he pushing his hands down Draco's back, hauling him against him and lifting his chin as he cocked his head back and kissed him harder. Then Draco was grasping his backside, squeezing his arse and rubbing against him with a muffled groan on his tongue and Harry forgot all about his dinner and how he promised Hermione that they'd spend at least the majority of the evening vertical and conversing.  


He moaned as his fingers quickly found the clasps holding Draco's robes together, tugging on the black leather and silver buckles, desperate to get to his skin beneath, to spread it open and feel his heat snug against him...inside him.   


Fucking _inside him_.   


Just the thought of it left him achingly hard with his mouth greedily stealing Draco's words from his tongue before he could speak them. With a wave of his hand, the dishes and candles and wine resting on the table lifted into the air and whizzed over to the counter, setting themselves down with a rattle as Harry walked himself backwards - dragging Draco with him by his undone clasps with their kiss keeping him terribly dizzy. The back of his thighs hit the table and Draco wobbled against him, his palm connecting with the wood sharply as Harry slid back onto it, the tablecloth bunching up under him as he pulled on the clasp and dragged Draco over him.  


"Harry, wait." He whispered, out of breath and flushed, hair no longer slicked back and strict but falling in chunks about his face, hanging free in the aftermath of Harry's slipping fingers. "I need to...I need to tell you something."  


"Tell me after." He grinned seductively, kissing his neck and pushing his hands apart, his fingers drawing the black fabric aside until he could push them off the other man's shoulders - revealing the silky white button-up beneath that fit him like a second skin.  


"You're not making this easy." Draco cursed, gasping as Harry tugged the shirttails from his trousers and slipped his hands up against his naked chest.  


"I'm being very easy actually." Harry hummed, sucking on his collar and hooking his ankles around the back of Draco's legs.  


"That's not what I meant." Draco grunted, his arms moving to comply with Harry's wishes as the black haired man plucked two buttons free and pulled his shirt up over his head and dropped it to the floor. "This is important."   


Harry could tell that Draco was trying to sound stern, using his finally cultivated Malfoy drawl, but it came out too breathy and broken and his hands were on Harry's thighs, moving up to his hips, pushing up his shirt, and lifting his chin to meet his kiss. He felt those cool fingers on his stomach, inching up his chest, rubbing over his nipple as he sucked on his tongue with his own hands quickly working open the man's fly. "So is you fucking me." Harry nipped at his bottom lip and thrust his hand down the man's trousers, feeling the weight of his cock against his palm in a whole new light.  


Last night he had been so caught up in drinking in all the new planes of Draco's body that he could, memorizing every little detail and trying his best to taste everything he could. But now, now all he could think about was having the heavy prick inside him, to feel the hardness filling up his hand forcing him apart. He felt drunk on just the sensations rushing through him in anticipation of laying back on the hard table and being speared by it. "God Draco, right now. Fuck me right now." He repeated, squeezing the man's cock and pulling on it in quick tugs as it grew harder.  


Draco groaned and cupped his cheeks, pressing their mouths together in a needy kiss. "Okay, wait...Harry...just wait." He broke away, his breath coming in sharp pants as he rested his forehead against Harry's. "I _have_ to tell you."  


There was something about the way Draco said it that finally cracked through the thick heady fog covering him, that pricked at his brain with that uncertainty that had plagued him since his visit to Ron and Hermione's and that had disappeared like it had been nothing but a foolish fleeting wisp when Draco caught him up in a kiss. He didn't want to hear it, whatever it was, didn't want to face that uncertainty again, didn't want to hear anything that had even the slightest chance of ruining this perfect bubble he was in. He had no desire to listen to anything that would take Draco out of his arms.   


Did that make him foolish? Reckless? Did the fact that he wanted to hide from even a slim possibility that whatever he was going to say was something heartbreaking? Maybe he was wrong anyway. Maybe it would be something good...maybe...  


Draco looked undone with his palms planted on the tabletop and head inching back a fraction so Harry could see him properly. He looked like he had crumbled under his own walls and stood before him as someone different, like he was looking out at him from eyes that Harry knew so very well but couldn't read, couldn't decipher what his gaze held. He looked like the prim man that his parents had tried to cultivate but shaken down to his bones, like he was breaking free from it all over again, a rawer version of when Harry first started seeing Draco again after the war - when his blonde hair was cut drastically short, his shirts tailored but muggle cut, his hand free of the ring that Harry had gotten used to seeing on his finger with the Malfoy crest on it. When he fumbled with muggle money and ordered coffee all wrong and kept forgetting not to mutter spells under his breath while in mixed company.  


A pureblood awkwardly and determinedly stepping out from the role he'd been bred to live.  


He was breathtakingly beautiful in the mess of conflict on his face.  


Harry ran his finger over Draco's sharp jaw, slipped his hand through his slick hair, and pressed a kiss to his open lips. "You look..." He trailed off and fingered his hair that felt oddly heavy, not as soft and pliant has it had been last night or during the times the man had lain his head against his shoulder during a movie with it tickling his chin and neck. There was undeniable lust in those gray eyes that stared heavily into him. Lust and need. Desire that shone sharp and clear. Draco wanted him and Harry _needed_ him and in that moment that was all Harry cared to think about. That was all he decided to let matter. “I want you inside me." He said quietly, capturing Draco's broken moan with his lips.  


Draco crushed him against his chest and Harry clung to him just as tightly as they kissed frantically, the intensity spilling from Draco's lips and touch a sudden flood that pulled him under and held him down - like the man had been unknowingly waiting and holding back until that very moment. They scrambled with each other’s clothes, the fabric spilling at their feet and thrown haphazardly across the table, and Draco was saying his name in that tortured way again as he was dragged down to the cold tile floor. He let out a squawk of surprise that turned into a long groan as Draco pushed his legs apart and slid down his body - kissing his chest and stomach, his fingers tracing down the length of his side.   


"Fuck Harry." Draco's breath ghosted over his prick lying hard against his stomach. "Tell me to stop." He whispered and Harry let out a laughing cry that sounded off pitch and shrill to his own ears, his blood pumping so thick through his ears that he could barely hear or see straight as Draco's finger pressed against his opening.  


"Draco." He whined, his hands reaching down to thread through his blonde hair, a gasp leaving his lips as the other man opened his mouth and sucked his cock suddenly into overwhelming wet warmth at the same moment his finger slipped past his muscles and into him. He struggled to breathe as pleasure rushed over him and he wondered fleetingly if it was possible to drown in this sort of torture, the kind of sensations holding him under making his bones turn to jelly as his heart pounded in his ears. He felt the burn of Draco's finger moving inside him, slowly pumping as he sucked him, and Harry couldn't help but wiggle against it, blinding seeking more. More. More.  


He was pretty sure he was garbling nonsense as he felt the burn stretch and grow as the thickness inside him increased and Draco's tongue drove him mad. Then the fingers inside him (two? three?) jabbed and hit just the right spot and Harry jerked, crying out loudly and seeing white. He tumbled downhill from there, lost in wave after wave, swimming through it with gasps of air and cries of Draco's name, his hand clawing at silky hair gone grimy with gel and against the cold tile. He tried to tell him that he was close, that he should stop, that he didn't want to tumble over the edge without feeling his cock buried inside him but it was too late.  


Draco swallowed him nearly whole, pumped his fingers in and out of him - fingering and blowing him like there was nothing he'd rather be doing, and Harry's entire body tensed as he lost it. He spilled down the other man's throat with his hole clenching tight around his fingers. He melted boneless into the floor as the last wave rushed over him. He lay panting, blinking quickly in hopes to get his vision to stop spinning round, dimly away that he was twitching as Draco licked him clean, his fingers slowing, pumping gently, leaving his body gingerly. Reluctantly.  


"I wanted..." Harry panted, swallowed thickly and tried to formulate the words he wanted to say as he grinned stupidly at nothing.   


"I know." Draco murmured quietly, pressing a lingering kiss to his hip before pulling back from him, his hand carding through his hair after wiping his mouth on his shoulder - Harry's eyes tracking each movement before dropping down his body and focusing on the fact that one of his hands was covered in cum. And it wasn't Harry's. The mess disappeared like it had never been there a second later with a muttered spell and a blush on Draco's flushed cheeks.  


Struggling up into a sitting position, Harry reached out and drew the other man close, breathing in his scent, the sharpness of their activities clinging to him as Harry pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Mhmm. You skipped a step." He hummed as he pulled back, a smile on his lips. "You'll have to rectify that."  


"Harry." Draco sighed heavily, touching the back of his hand that Harry had placed against the blonde's cheek. "Look, I...I shouldn't have done this."

  
"Yeah, fucking usually involves something bigger than fingers."  


"I'm serious...Harry...shit." Draco closed his eyes tight and pushed out of his embrace, rising on unsteady feet and snatching his trousers up from the floor. "Please just...get dressed, okay?"  


Cold seeped through the heat burning inside him at the tired resignation of Draco's tone and Harry blinked quickly to keep himself grounded. "Yeah, alright." He nodded as Draco shrugged his shirt back on, his eyes avoiding Harry's as he stood and reached for his own clothes, a slight nausea settling in his stomach and squeezing in his throat. He told himself not to panic as he zipped his fly and struggled his shirt over his head but fuck...when did anything good ever come after words like that?  


Rubbing a hand vigorously over his face, Harry's breath caught and hitched as Draco snatched his wrist between his fingers, holding him tight and staring at him with those unreadable eyes. "Draco -"  


Draco bent and kissed him, swiftly and deeply, his wrist bending in the unbearably tight grasp. It was over before he knew it, his feet stumbling a step as Draco released him and backed up quickly. "Right...so just...sit here." He gestured to one of the kitchen chairs and considering the fact that Harry wasn't entirely sure his knees weren't about to give out at any moment, he sunk readily down into it without so much as a word. "Good...and I'll..." He trailed off and stared down at Harry, his hand twitching at his side. "Yes, I'll sit over here." He moved quickly around the table, putting the length of wood between them and Harry couldn't help but smile a little at his uncharacteristically twitchy actions.  


And the not so subtle fact that Draco needed a table between them in order to stop kissing him.  


"So what did you want to tell me?" Harry asked after taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, a corner of his mind reassuring him that it surely couldn't be _that_ bad. Draco wanted him. It was clear as day. It was obvious in his kiss and touch and the fact that he was staring at his mouth even now from across the table. He bit the corner of his lip and smiled.  


Draco looked down at his hands clasped together on the table. "I don't...I don't quite know how to say this." He started, voice quiet and even pitched, like he was desperately trying to detach from the situation. "I should have told you that night in the pub...I should have told you so many times." He sighed heavily and dragged a hand through his hair, grasping the back of his neck tightly. "I was _going to_ , yesterday, at the tailors but then..."  


"Draco." Harry reached across the table and covered the hand lying there with his own. "Just tell me."  


"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." He pulled his hand free from Harry's, dropping it into his lap. "I should have stopped, but I...I couldn't."  


Harry felt his heart slow, a deep steady thump that punctuated the stillness around them as Draco trailed off and tensed his jaw. "Draco...you're making me nervous." He was actually scaring him, terrifying him. Somehow this stuttering conversation that didn't seem to be heading anywhere good was more horrifying than any dark situation he'd ever encountered at work.  


"You're right about us, I...I want to be with you. I mean, hell Harry, I _want_ to be with you." Draco started up again, the words somehow sounding like a fleeting line of false hope even as it lit a spark in Harry's chest, a spark he knew he shouldn't trust, shouldn't cling to but did anyway. "But I can't."  


And there it was. He can't. _Can't_.   


Harry swallowed through his aching, dry throat, his chest heaving as he tried to calm the torrent rising inside him that made moisture prick behind his eyes. "Why? Why can't you? Because - fuck Draco, whatever is, I'm sure we can figure it out. If we both want this then we can figure it out, we -"  


"Harry." Draco cut him off, his voice sad and tired, his eyes void as he lifted them to meet Harry's watering ones. "I'm betrothed. I'm getting married...right after my thirtieth birthday."  


Harry's ears rang, the other man's words flying through his head as he stared dumbstruck. But they were words that didn't make any sense, that couldn't hold the meaning Harry knew they were supposed to. He felt like he couldn't catch onto any of it even as his heart broke and spilled a drop down his cheek.   


How could he be betrothed? How could he possibly be getting married when all he'd had over the past few years were useless flings? Unless...fuck was he actually going to marry Ethan? How could he...his thirtieth? That was in two years - what the fuck?  


"Betrothed?" He breathed, his hand curling into a fist on the table as he tried to keep from hyperventilating.  


Draco nodded.   


"To who?" He demanded, his voice rising a little, hurt crushing against his chest and threatening to spill over into all-consuming pain. He clung to the anger that he could feel simmering low inside him, an anger that felt blinding and yet hollow like he couldn't even reason why he was so furious but it was there - quiet for the time being but Harry clutched at it because the pain was worse, the pain would crumble him completely.  


"Pansy. The contract was written up last year."  


A memory hit him like a bludger in the stomach, of Draco coming home from his parents, irritated and disjointed and practically crawling out of his own skin. The night he paced the flat and found Harry on the couch, the night he didn't say anything but instead just laid down with him until he fell asleep. Draco had been off the entire week after and Harry had chalked it up to him just seeing his parents again, of his mother and father nagging him to veer back onto the path they wanted him to.   


"You're marrying Pansy?" He whispered, feeling like he was icing over, cold and numb with frozen tears in his eyes just waiting to rain down his cheeks. "I don't - why?"  


"The Malfoy line..." Draco trailed off and cleared his throat, his voice having gone tight and constricted. "I need an heir."  


Children. This was all about children. Draco was going to marry a woman when he wasn't even remotely attracted to them just so he could sire a child. He was going to give up on what they could have just for a fucking name! And he didn't even want children, he'd said so, he'd said that he'd...oh god this was why he was at his mother's...was he trying to get out of it? Was he trying to find a loop hole? Had he fled Harry's bed early that morning only to go and find out that there was none?   


He was going to be sick.  


"You don't want children." Harry shot back at him, blinking away the sudden fuzziness in his vision and ignoring the wet slide that dripped off his chin.   


"Of course I don't! Children mean...bloody hell Harry they mean the end of all of this." He waved his hand in the air, encompassing himself and Harry and their flat in the single gesture. "But I have a duty -"  


"Fuck duty!" Harry hollered, rising so quickly from his chair he nearly managed to upturn it. He marched round the table as Draco scrambled up and backed away from him, his eyes wide and wild and broken. "What about us? Do we not count for anything? I mean, god Draco you're not even giving us time. You're saying no before we even get a chance!"  


"Harry, don't." Draco whispered, closing his eyes tightly. "I have to marry her, I have to produce an heir, and I can't...I can't ask you to wait for me, I don't _want_ to ask that of you, and I can't...I can't do this if I know you -"  


"Want you?" Harry filled in for him, capturing his hand and tugging him nearer, Draco's own wrecked emotions throwing him off balance and making it easier than it should have been. "Need you? Because I do Draco, god I need you so much." He cupped his face and brushed a tear away with his thumb as he ignored the ones on his own cheeks. "I need you." He whispered again, swallowing a deeper confession of love as he pressed his forehead against his and stole a chaste kiss. "Please...don't do this."  


"It's done, Harry." Draco's voice was so quiet he could barely hear him, his chest stuttering as he struggled with his own breath. "And I looked..." he reached up and cupped Harry's face, pressing in for a kiss that he turned from at the last moment - their noses bumping as Draco breathed against his cheek. "But I can't...there isn't a way."  


"Draco, don't -" Harry sobbed and reached for him as Draco stepped quickly away. "Don't."  


"I'm sorry." He whispered softly as he gathered himself to his full height and blinked at him, the single red line of the one tear that had managed to escape without his consent standing out starkly on his complexion. He was a mess, disheveled from head to toe, standing in his fine clothes with his socks and shoes missing and red ringed eyes that he refused to let leak any further. "I should go...I am sorry, Harry."  


And that was it, Harry stepped forward to tug him back into his arms and try to knock some sense into him but the other man was already spinning and popping away - leaving him standing in their empty flat with his heart breaking and face soaked with stinging tears.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So freakin long chapter! And before you all start hurling rotten vegetables at me and Draco just know that there’s going to be a lot more answers and explanation next chapter – the boys just need to cool down a bit :)


	10. Questions and Answers

****10****  
  
  
  
Pansy's door was bright yellow.  


It stood out startlingly, squashed between the lifeless white paint on the paneled sides, standing exactly in the middle of two large windows with yellow curling curtains like someone had drawn a line between the two points and proclaimed that that was the only place a door could logically stand. The same person who had situated it there had probably also deemed the door be that ghastly shade of happy yellow (to match the dancing curtains when the breeze blew and the flowers that Harry knew littered the front garden in the summer) because Harry couldn't believe that Pansy would ever do such a thing willingly. The women liked blood reds, deep greens, and numerous shades of browns that Harry thought looked like dirt but she proclaimed was _chocolate_ and _cedar_ and _syrup_ and _why couldn't he tell the difference_?  


Harry scowled at it, glaring so hard that his head actually throbbed as he curled his fingers into a first in his pocket.  


Fucking Pansy and her fucking yellow door which probably had an equally ridiculous name as the browns decorating her lounge - something like lemon or bumblebee or dandelion.  


Over the years, Harry had come up with countless reasons as to why he couldn't be with Draco. He entertained the idea that it was because they were too different, too alike. Had begrudging began to accept that it was because the man wasn't attracted to him, that he didn't want him. He thought bitterly it was because of all the men, all the flings and one night stands, all those kisses that meant nothing and were forgotten just as easily. Or because of Ethan. But he had never even entertained the wild possibility that it was because of a woman.  


Because of Pansy Parkinson.  


_Goddamn fucking fuck_.  


Harry rubbed his temple and closed his eyes, Merlin he needed to stop swearing in his head considering it wasn't doing a lick of good except perhaps keeping him from dissolving into tears and lying back down on his kitchen floor like an utterly pathetic love sick idiot. But then again the silent swearing was like conjuring a battle drum, something that beat with anger, simmering inside him and waiting to explode and he wanted that right now. Wanted to be furious beyond all reason, wanted to hit something and shout, wanted to take ahold of Draco's shoulders and shake him violently. Maybe punch him. Maybe hex him. Maybe claw at his perfect goddamn fucking face.   


God who was he even kidding? If he got that close to him, Harry wouldn't be kicking and screaming (though he probably should) he would be trying to jam reason into his head, trying to talk him out of his course of action...trying to kiss him because even with all the aching in his head and body, and all the anger and hurt spewing like a fountain inside him, he could vividly recall everything that had happened between them.  


He kept thinking about their last kiss. The one where Draco had grasped his wrist painfully tight and dragged him into a kiss that Harry knew now held the taste of agony.  


God, _last one_. Fuck.  


Harry cursed quietly and kicked feebly at the front door, dragging a rough hand through his mangled curls. The worst of it all was that he couldn't stop thinking about how well they fit, and not just sexually, but in all things. How they flowed together, how their days were entwined around each other, how Harry loved waking up to his flatmates drawl and having his breakfast interrupted with some sort of ridiculous manifestation of Draco's rather nutty behavior towards all things muggle. He loved their dinners together, their movie marathons even though they both already knew the films by heart by now, hell he even loved going grocery shopping with the man and all the useless knickknacks that were slowly taking over their flat.   


He loved that Draco's employees all knew him as Draco's friend and not the famous Harry Potter, loved how they smiled at him and pointed towards Draco who was almost always bent over a cauldron or staring down at some ancient text with his brows knit together, loved how the men and women in his shop enjoyed his visits because it meant that their boss was about to get thoroughly distracted. He loved _being_ that distraction.

 

He loved how his Secretary at the ministry knew Draco by sight and often made him a cup of coffee without being asked, loved how his fellow Auror's jested with Draco, choosing to ignore the man's troubled past even as Draco scowled at them and grumbled under his breath. He loved that Draco still popped by his office anyway, despite the rambunctious Auror's and terrible coffee.  


He loved it all. And now it was gone. Draco had popped out of their kitchen and hadn't returned all through the long night that Harry couldn't sleep through despite his best efforts. The blonde had left him standing with his skin sticky and arse tender and heart breaking with a revelation that Harry couldn't make fit in his head. He felt like he had been left holding the last piece of an intricate jigsaw puzzle only to find that it wasn't the correct piece, that it wasn't even a part of the puzzle he had been constructing.

  
But then...then he remembered all those half sentences, all those quiet answers to questions Harry had had trouble asking in the first place.  


Draco didn't want children because the world he lived in still saw the scar on his arm as a snake and skull and because kids would overrun his life. He didn't believe in soul mates, didn't think there was one person out there for everyone. He didn't kiss if he thought he'd have trouble stopping...it made the puzzle piece shudder in his hands, warping like it could possibly fit into the mystery that was Draco Malfoy despite one or two sides being drastically wrong.   


And Harry had been right in a way, Draco didn't want to stop his useless flings, but not solely because of Ethan or the war, but because he knew he had a time limit - knew that every day that ticked by he was one step closer to finding himself married to his childhood friend out of duty. He didn't want to get involved with anyone - with Harry - because he didn't dare tempt himself with what he could have instead in only he would give up the notion that he needed to continue the Malfoy line.  


"Potter, don't you dare kick my door one more time, you'll scuff it." Pansy sneered, the door swinging open so quickly Harry almost lost his balance with his foot halfway towards making contact with the solid yellow wood.  


He teetered on his feet for a moment, his hand pushing up under his glasses to rub at his sore, tired eyes. "If you don't want it kicked then don't paint it goddamned yellow." He grumbled.  


Pansy narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing as she studied him, one hand propped up on her hip with the other tapping thoughtfully against the door jam. Harry stared at her, trying to narrow his eyes into his own glare but he wasn't sure if he was managing it or not - Merlin he needed to sleep and give his eyes a rest, all the salt that had spilled from them earlier a scratchy irritant now in the light of day.   


"So, I hear congratulations are in order." Harry spat or tried to anyways, but with a frown on his lips he realized that he only ended up sounding rather lost, or embarrassingly enough like he was about to fall apart again right there on her door step. He really needed to get a grip.  


Something flickered in Pansy's dark eyes before she was sighing heavily, her chest heaving with irritation as she pushed her door open wider and stepped aside. "Ah, I see he finally told you then? Well come on in, no use shouting at me for all the neighbors to hear." She left the door standing open as she turned and walked back into her house, her socked feet making no noise against the plush carpeting. "Come on then, I don't have all day you know." She called back as Harry stared after her, feeling rather stuck to the front stoop and uncertain if he actually wanted to have this conversation now that it was actually happening.  


But it wasn't so much about _wants_ though anymore was it? Harry needed some answers, he needed something tangible and logical for him to grasp onto and since Draco had left in a swirl of confusing emotions with a bomb of a confession Harry didn't really have all that many places to turn to for answers. So with his stomach twisting up further into the knot growing inside him, Harry stepped past the threshold and closed the door behind him, wandering down the hall and into the lounge where he found her seated comfortably on an overstuffed chair with a glass of something clear in her hand.  


"So it's true." He said, his throat tight despite his best efforts as he hovered in the doorway. "You're engaged to him?"  


Pansy pursed her full lips before nodding and taking a sip of her drink. "Yes."  


"For a year?" Harry pressed, taking a step forward and calling up the anger inside him to rise to the surface. He wanted her to see it for some reason, wanted that to be the face she looked into instead of all the hurt and pain and heartbreak. "You've been betrothed for a whole damn year and neither of you said a word?" It was more an accusation than a question but Pansy nodded anyway with a bored sort of look in her round eyes.  


"Yes and it's about time he told you, Merlin the man has been trying to all bloody year, I'm rather amazed he finally managed it, thought I'd end up having to do it in my wedding gown. Did he spill the news over dinner? Or during one those movies he's obsessed with? Bone-something-or-other."   


"No, he..." Harry blushed and glanced down at the rich brown carpet, unable and unwilling to share what had happened between them to her, bitterness curling inside him as he thought about how _she_ was going to be the one to live her life with that privilege all too soon. She would get to wake up to him every morning, she would get to touch and kiss, she would get to weave her life together with his.  


And Harry...Harry wouldn't be a part of it. How could he after what had happened? How could he stand by and pretend...his secretary was going to miss Draco terribly, she always said he was the only man with any class that came through their section of the Ministry. But Merlin, just the thought of not seeing him, of not getting to share the mundane details of his day with the blonde made the ache inside him throb.  


"Ah, finally succumbed to your irresistible charm did he?" She said with dripping sarcasm and a smirk.  


"Finally?" He repeated, eyeing her carefully as he did so, her comment startling his fragile nerves.  


"Yes Potter, _finally_." She answered slowly, quipping one eyebrow at him as she took another drink from her glass that clattered with the cubes of ice resting inside.  


"What..." Trailing off, Harry carded a hand through his hair and gripped his neck before dropping it lifeless by his side. "What does that _mean_?" He felt horribly wound up and confused, nothing was making any sort of sense. He felt like he had tumbled down the rabbit hole with Alice and into a world where Draco was a haughty Malfoy again with his nose stuck in the air and Pansy draped on his arm. He shook off the mental image and couldn't quite meet her eye as he started up again. "I mean, he doesn't, he said he can't...he can't _want_ me...not really, not if he's going to..." He didn't really know where his rambling was going, why it mattered what Pansy thought about Draco's feelings for him anyway. What would it change? Nothing.  


"Don't be daft, of course he wants you. Honestly Potter, he's been pulling your pigtails since you were eleven years old."  


Harry blinked and glanced sharply down at her, his breath caught in his chest as the anger he was desperately trying to keep ahold of leaked slowly away with those few simple words. He sank down heavily onto the couch, feeling physically spent and emotionally wrought, his head falling into his hands as he breathed deep and tried to organize his thoughts. God why was it all so confusing? He didn't know what truth to grasp onto in. Didn't know if he should hope or not. How did you fight for someone who already told you there wasn't even a possibility?  


"It was stupid of him to move in with you, I told him as such. Hell, it was stupid of him to ever befriend you but then Draco always has had a habit of tormenting himself." Pansy sighed and Harry could hear the click of her tumbler being set down on the glass coffee table as fabric rustled.   


"Tormenting?"  


"What else would you call it?"  


Harry didn't know but tormenting sounded about right. He could remember how Ron had always laughed and shook his head at him, pointing out how they were practically dating without any of the benefits, how Hermione had told him he was settling down with Draco even though the man wasn't his. It was a cruel sort of irony to think that Draco had been doing and feeling the same things as him.   


That they were both perhaps playing house all along. Like fools.  


"Then why?" Harry grit out. "If you knew...know...that he and I...god, why would you hold him to this contract?"  


"Me?" She snorted and Harry peeked up at her to see her shaking her head at the floor. "I'm not making him do anything, I'd happily release him if he asked but he's not going to Potter."  


"But why? Surely he can't believe that marrying you is the only way for him to be a father...I mean...god there are so many options out there if it's that important to him." Like adaption. Like a surrogate. Hell, like a fucking one night stand with a deemed worthy pureblood while hopped up on fertility potions.   


"None that matter."  


"What the hell does that mean?"  


"Think about it Potter, he's given up everything of his upbringing, of his heritage, and yes, I know, it’s mostly for the best. But now in the eyes of the purebloods he's nothing more than a mudblood, he's tainted, worse than that really because he did it to himself willingly. He is a blight on their world even if no one speaks out loud of things like this anymore, the thoughts and feelings are still there, their still the undercurrent of the old families. Draco has drug what was left of the Malfoy name through the mud in their eyes. But even still...that's not exactly why he's doing this, if he cared so much for his name he wouldn't have taken up with you and started warping his brain with that loud blaring box of yours in the first place."  


"Then why?" Harry demanded, feeling a bit like he was on perpetual repeat. Why? Why? Why was everything crumbling for something as stupid as this? Why was it crumbling for something Harry wanted too?  


Children. He wanted that. He wanted that with Draco.   


"For his mother." She answered, rolling her eyes at Harry's incredulous look. "Don't give me that look, you can't possibly understand what he feels he owes her."  


"Then enlighten me." He grit out, his chest aching as he curled his hand into a fist on his knee. Merlin but everything fucking _hurt_ inside him.  


"Has he told you about her illness?"   


Harry sucked in a breath and felt a whole new sort of pang in his heart. Narcissa was sick? Why hadn't Draco told him? God he felt like he was seeing a part of his flatmate that he never even knew existed until last night. Draco had kept it all hidden so very well, tucked inside him, pretending he never even thought on it. "No." He whispered, remembering how quiet Draco always was after visiting his mother, how subdued and lethargic before snapping suddenly and often rather startlingly out of it - bouncing around their flat and pulling Harry along after him.  


"Not surprising really." Pansy shrugged and crossed her short legs. "She fell sick during the war and Draco...well, he blames himself and don't ask me why Potter. He just does and let’s leave it at that. But regardless if he should or shouldn't feel responsible, when she took a turn for the worst last year he finally gave into her wishes that he'd been dodging since we were fifth years. We agreed on a time and date and to keep it a secret and live our lives apart until the time came." She paused and played with a stray thread on her knee. "I suspect Draco likes to pretend that it never will come."  


"This is madness." Harry breathed for a lack of better wording, because boiled down to its core that's what all this was. Madness. Complete and utter madness. Draco's mother was severely ill from the sounds of it and as she crept towards death her son aligned himself to live her dream for him. For the Malfoy name. For the bloodline. It was all making Harry's head throb something fierce and he didn't know what to do. He felt like even as Pansy spoke and enlightened him of all the things he never knew that he was missing some key piece to the puzzle.  


"Look Potter, he should have told you, god knows he should have," Pansy muttered, sounding tired and a bit resigned for the first time since he'd entered her house. "But if he wants to go through with this, I will marry him. I will give him his heir. And I will love him, maybe not like you do but there is more than one kind of love."  


"But you know him, you know he's-"  


"Gay? Obsessed with you? Will most likely want to name our child Bone?"  


"Bond." Harry corrected instinctively before letting out a small rueful chuckle. "And yes, all of the above. So why are _you_ doing this? I don't get it, why would you give up your chance for a happy marriage..."  


"My reasons are my own." She said quietly and Harry watched as her foot encased in bright purple socks bounced in the air. "But you should know, in case he failed to mention, after we have a child we have agreed to have an open marriage. We'll stay together and please _god_ , don't ask why again, but we will be free to be with other people."  


_I can't ask you to wait for me_ \- Draco's words from the night before rang sharply in his head and Harry's stomach lurched, Draco's disjointed sentences taking on a whole new light for what felt like the hundredth time.  


_Goddamned fucking fuck_.  


"I just don't get how -" and then something else crept forward, tapping at his thoughts amongst the jumble of everything else. "Ethan?" He asked tightly, his mind suddenly consumed with thoughts of the other man who had spent countless nights taking Draco out and talking. _Talking_. Night after night. And he wanted a commitment, that's what Draco had told him at the tailors, but how could the blonde possibly be even considering it if he knew what his future held?  


"He knows." Pansy answered and Harry let out a harsh breath that made something sharp shoot through his chest. "He's a pureblood, he understands."  


So that was it. Ethan was willing to conform to whatever part Draco had left for him to play. He wanted to date him and then would willingly step back and _wait_. God, he wasn't just losing Draco to Pansy but possibly to Ethan as well and maybe that shouldn't have hit like a sledge hammer to the gut but it did and Harry had to fumble over his goodbye before the tears could well in his eyes.  


He was fucking sick of crying anyway.  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
The moon was swollen full in the night sky, shining bright and silver against the midnight black all around, when Harry heard it. It was a soft clatter, like someone stumbling into a wall or a corner table, a rattle that sounded like a lamp teetering precariously. He knew those sounds so very well, but normally they were louder - two pairs of feet, two backs hitting plaster, drunken slurs and sometimes even giggles punctuated with hiccups.   


Harry stared out his window, his eyes glued to the fuzzy silver globe in the sky from his spot curled up under his blankets, his hand curling in on itself under his pillow till he could feel his nails digging into his palm. He felt shot through. Depleted. He needed to shut his mind off and sleep, to process all that he had learned. But Draco was home - finally - and tipsy if not drunk from the sounds of it. He knew the smart thing to do was to ignore the other man, to maybe take a potion to lull him under, and confront him in the morning.   


He _knew_ what he should do.  


But the moon was bright and large. Draco was home and alone. And Harry's heart wanted nothing more than to curl around the other man, to lay his hand on his chest and feel the answering beat. He needed a night of peace and maybe he shouldn't have felt that he'd get that with the cause of his turmoil next to him but...well logic and Draco had never gone hand in hand.  


His socked feet felt cold on the floor, his hands blindly seeking his glasses and slipping them on crookedly before waving his hand and blinking in the soft light that filled his room. _His_ room, in _their_ flat, surrounded by things they'd bought _together_ \- half the clothes in his wardrobe (the nice half) picked out by Draco's keen eye, the lamp on his bedside a gift when Draco had first discovered the miracle of light bulbs and all their many forms they came in. His desk chair old and weathered and terribly unconformable before Draco go this hands (and his wand) on it. The man wasn't only in Harry's head and heart, he was everywhere.  


He had thought endlessly on what Pansy had told him (because Merlin, how could he not?) and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the grudging notion that he was starting to understand. A little at least. He could turn his head and look at it from Draco's angle, he could picture having his mother back and doing anything to keep her in his life. He could picture Draco, young and lost and terrified, watching not only his own life fall apart but his mother’s as well and not being able to do anything about it. He understood the importance of family. Of heritage. Of spending yourself for someone you love, for someone who protected you and sheltered you.  


But he also understood the steps the blonde had taken to sever himself from the constraints of the pureblood way of life after the war, he understood that Draco needed to do it for more reasons than Harry could even pretend to understand. It was almost like the other man was split down the middle, with two drastically different ideas and thoughts and desires and Harry was starting to realize that Draco wasn't doing this just for his name, for his bloodline, for his mother’s wish, it was more, a deeper need that Harry couldn't see clearly but knew was there. But even still, he wasn't about to give up. He couldn't give up.  


He paused outside Draco's closed bedroom door, a gentle light spilling out from beneath the crack under it. He listened to the quiet thuds and dragged a hand through his hair, nudging his glasses up his nose again even though they were already in place. Raising a fist, he knocked quickly, then with a deep breath he twisted the knob and inched the door open as all the noise from inside the bedroom ceased. "Draco?" He cleared his throat and shuffled inside, his gaze landing on the back of his flatmate.  


Draco stood before his open wardrobe, his back and shoulders stiff, his head turning just a fraction to catch sight of Harry from the corner of his eye - a speck of glitter sparkling on his cheek. "Harry. I just -needed a shirt..." he trailed off, his voice quiet, his hand gesturing halfheartedly towards his wardrobe.  


"Okay." Harry nodded, walking further into the room and standing at Draco's shoulder, his hand reaching out and gently brushing away the speck of glitter with his thumb. His cheek was ice cold and Harry battled with himself not to press his entire palm against his skin. "Where have you been?" The other man smelled of alcohol and smoke and he looked like he hadn't slept or even closed his eyes since he'd seen him last.  


Draco's eyelids fluttered and he swayed slightly on his feet. "Theo's. He let me crash in his spare room." He shook his head and looked away. "He _insisted_ we go out."  


"You didn't need to go to his." Harry said softly, his thumb dropping down Draco's cheek, his touch reluctant to leave the other man's skin now that he felt the cool angles of it again. "You could have stayed." But even as he said it, Harry had a feeling that maybe Draco fleeing had been the best thing for both of them. They would have gotten nowhere with their emotions running so high - Harry needed to hear the details without trying to pry Draco back into his arms. He needed time to let the hurt dull to a painful thump inside him and for understanding to pry its way into his head. And Draco needed to not be pushed because backing the man into a corner only ever resulted in an explosion.  


"Perhaps but I -" Draco's jaw clenched, his hands slipping into his wrinkled trousers pockets. "I don't know what to say." He replied and Harry couldn't help but smile at the honestly of it, at the raw emotions that pulled the words from the other man's throat. Draco wasn't hiding behind flowery wording, wasn't confusing him with double meanings and hazy answers. He wasn't shuttered. He simply didn't have the words and Harry understood that.  


Nodding, Harry lifted his hands to Draco's shirt, carefully undoing the small black buttons holding the material together as he watched his fingers work. "Then don't." He whispered, listening to Draco's breath hitch as he parted the material and pushed it from his shoulder, the garment fluttering to the floor and curling around his feet. "We don't have to talk right now." He stared at Draco's stomach as he spoke, his fingers brushing over the firm muscles covered in pale skin. "Just...come to bed."  


"Harry." Draco breathed as Harry pushed the blonde’s trousers to his feet, leaving the man standing before him in just his black boxers with his cheeks pinking and eyes boring into Harry's forehead. "This isn't a good idea. I should...go."  


With a shake of his head, Harry grabbed Draco's hand and led him silently over to the bed. He dropped his glasses on the bedside table and sat down softly, scooting back on the surprisingly soft mattress and pulling Draco with him, over him - making the blonde all but crawl onto his own bed until he was hovering over Harry with his gray eyes dark and swimming, his lip red and wet and white around the edges like he'd been biting harshly into it a second ago.   


"It's the turn of the moon, we always spend it together." Harry said softly, speaking for the first time about their nights together, vocalizing their taboo and watching as some unnamed emotion flitted across Draco's face. "You've got glitter, right here." He smiled as he brushed away another sparkling speck from his forehead, his head sinking back into the silky pillow.  


"Theo's fault." Draco murmured, his gaze traveling over Harry's face and landing to fix heavily on his lips. "You know I loathe glitter. The monstrosity gets everywhere and could survive Fiendfyre." He was getting that far away cadence to his tone again with his gaze going hazy just like it had the other night. Like he was slipping under a spell he didn't want to even try to fight free of and Harry wondered when exactly he had started having that sort of pull over him.  


He was so very tempted to give into it, he had a feeling it wouldn't be hard, he could pull Draco down to him - fix their lips together and arch up into him, pushing his body against the other man's and demanding an answering pull. They could lose themselves in each other so simply, pushing all the complication to the backs of their minds as they reached bliss. They could erase their memories of the past day with the melding of flesh, could rewrite history if only for a night.  


With a shaky breath, Harry threaded his fingers around the back of Draco's neck, his other hand reaching up and pressing on the blondes back. Draco's weight was a heady experience in itself as he settled against him, the blonde's head coming to rest carefully against his shoulder with the help of Harry’s guiding hand. He stared up a the ceiling as he ran his hands down the other man's back, counting each bony knob beneath his fingertips as he savored the feeling of Draco's breath ghosting over his skin before flicking his wrist and catching the blanket that came soaring up to meet them - pulling it up their bodies until they were buried beneath it as the lights flicked off.  


"Just stay with me tonight." Harry whispered, turning his head and tracing a finger along Draco's jaw as he shifted until they were lying on their sides, his arms wrapping tight around the other man as he pressed a delicate kiss to his lips. He pulled away before could become lost in it, his eyes closing on a deep sigh as he felt a conflicting storm of emotions swarm him.

  
But Draco was in his arms with his breath on his skin and his legs twined with his and moments before Harry finally succumbed to the dream world he felt the man's arms wrap tightly around him - Draco's face turning and pressing into the side of his neck, his lips damp as they brushed lightly against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I must say I was very nervous about how you would all react to the last chapter, but I'm so glad you all didn't swear at me and throw things ;) Though for those of you who know my writing you probably knew something angsty was coming...can't seem to help writing a bit of sadness in all my stuff. So this chapter felt a bit like a connecting chapter more than anything but it was important and I really hope you all still enjoyed it!


	11. I Will Be Your Hero (Baby)

  
  
  
  
There was a horrible sense of deja vu when Harry awoke the next morning to find the other half of the bed empty.

  
He jolted upright with his hands planted behind him and his eyes blinking in the soft light filtering in from the window as he glanced quickly around himself with his heart easing back into his chest from where it had leapt into his throat. But this time there was no mug of coffee sitting on the bedside table, no Post-it to indicate where his flatmate had run off to. There was nothing and as Harry fumbled his glasses back onto his nose he quickly took in the fact that the clothes he had peeled from Draco's body were no longer strewn on the floor, the doors to the wardrobe no longer hanging open but shut firmly.   


There wasn't a single thing out of place and Harry let out a sigh as he rubbed a hand over his forehead, his eye catching on Draco's desk sitting in the corner - with his books stacked neatly, parchment arranged symmetrically, one quill sitting beside an ink well, and three ball point pens aligned next to the cheeky bobble head of James Bond that Harry had gotten him for his birthday two years ago. His chair was tucked, the drawers were shut, and Harry found his fingers trailing over the deeply polished oak as he neared - his gaze zeroing in on the three picture frames sitting exactly two inches from each other.  


He hadn't been in Draco's room much in the past. It was the man's private place, somewhere Harry typically never followed him into despite the fact that Draco had no such qualms in barging into his room any time of the day or night for any reason whatsoever. The bedroom smelled like him - neat and clean and a bit like ginger and parchment - the color scheme cool and inviting and sparse with the desk sitting beneath the lone window and taking up most of the free space. 

 

Harry wasn't exactly sure why seeing the three photos was a surprise considering he could still remember Draco's first camera purchase and the mayhem that had followed. But it was, a bit like when Harry had first come to the realization that Draco wasn't a completely unfeeling, racist git - but rather funny (in a sarcastic sort of way), somewhat nice (in a prickly manner), and not at all greasy and slimy upon closer inspection. It seemed the blonde was destined to constantly force Harry to see new sides of him, to take in the deeper angles, and force them to merge inside his head.   


The first photograph was enchanted, it moved and flowed with the wind that blew silently and the small dainty smile that could barely be called such on Narcissa's severe face. She was sitting on a veranda, a book in hand, her gaze downcast and a shallow pallor to her skin, her cheeks slightly sunken and drawing sharp lines and deep shadows across her features. Yet she was still somehow beautiful even though Harry could see it now - see her illness in the little details that made her up.   


He frowned at it, unnerved by the transformation from the woman he could remember on the day of the final battle, and quickly shifted his gaze to the next photo. The second one was a landscape, one Harry readily recognized. It was the sprawling meadow and towering oak that stood sentinel on the man's plot of land. The color of the sky was a rich blue, the ground a vivid green, the tree almost whispering through the glass of the frame and its long branches waving even though there was no movement - no enchantment to give it that added layer of life. It was breathtaking.   


It felt like looking into the future Draco wanted but wouldn't let himself have.  


He stared quietly at it for several long moments, remembering how his life had changed so suddenly on that very piece of land only two days ago. The last photograph held no enchantment either but neither did it bleed any sort of color outside of the realm of blacks and whites and every shade of gray in between. And it was of him. Of them. Sort of. Harry was pretty sure the picture had initially been an accident, back when Draco was still trying to figure the thing out and ended up with most of his pictures having big black blotches from his thumb or blurry from not keeping it steady or out of focus and improperly framed from lack of natural talent.   


This one was blurry, out of focus, _and_ oddly positioned but Harry could still recognize it.  


It was of his legs, stretched out and looking endless and clothed in his baggy sweatpants that looked gray but were really green, and resting on his thigh was his hand, fingers pinching a martini glass with the twist of lemon tipped against the side. And beside him were Draco's legs, his feet shoved under Harry's, trousers rolled up past the ankle and knees angling towards Harry's chest, one pale arm looped around them with his fingers halted blurry in midair like he was halfway through a gesture of some sort.  


Harry knew without a doubt that it was them on their couch, watching Bond, Draco no doubt fiddling with his camera during one of the scenes he liked least and turning to ask Harry yet another question about how it worked (despite Harry constantly reminding him that he knew about as much as Draco on the subject). The photograph was a fluke, it was never meant to be captured and yet...it felt alive. Like someone had found a way to scrape down their life together and pour it into a single image. Harry felt his face grow hot as he stared at the innocent picture, his gaze tracing up Draco's legs to his sharp knees and how they nudged into Harry's side, bunching up his sweatshirt.   


He felt slightly feverish looking at it because Draco had a _picture_ of _them_. On his desk. In a frame.  


Harry had a picture of them in his room also, in his bedside drawer, hidden like a shameful thing even though it was anything but. It was just of them, smiling and sitting across from each other at a table during some ministry event that had a professional photographer going around snapping pictures. Harry had purchased it impulsively afterwards without Draco knowing and had snuck it into his drawer, because he had a feeling that his secret would have been spilled if the man ever knew about it. Like the picture would give him and his feelings away - like all Draco would have to do was look at Harry in the photo and he'd _know_.  


And now, standing in Draco's room with his aching heart and brain still trying to fit everything he was learning together, he couldn't help the prickling thought that this spilled Draco's secret. That maybe there had been some truth in what Pansy had said. Maybe Draco had been wanting him for months...years…  


A door opened and shut and Harry startled out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping up to Draco's closed bedroom door. He bit his lip as he tried to fight down the flush that had spread over his face, dragging a hand through his hair and muttering a quick spell to freshen his morning breath. His eyes slid along the wall as his thoughts raced until he caught sight of himself in the mirror hanging beside the man's wardrobe and Harry paused as he stared back at his own reflection.  


Merlin he was a blight on the pristine room.

 

He looked rumpled and a little like his clothes had swallowed him whole - the thick black jumper too big around his chest and too long on his arms, hiding his fingers from view. His sleep pants were old and checked, the thick flannel worn down into the perfect level of warmth and comfort, the ends tucked into his thick wool socks the color of the sky on a warm summer’s day. He frowned at his own mess of curls and the shallow pallor of his skin but at least the dark circles under his eyes were gone thanks to the deep sleep he had found himself in while knotted tight around Draco.  


Pushing his glasses up his nose, Harry squared his shoulders, and looked away. He had never been all that handsome or put together. He always felt like a bit of an old stain next to Draco, like someone had just spilled their cup of paints when putting him together. But it was odd, the blonde had this uncanny way of making him feel a little less like a disaster. He didn't quite understand it, how Draco's eyes could slip over his body and Harry would immediately feel better, stand taller. It made even less sense when it would happen when he looked like he did now.  


Merlin, he didn't even know why he was thinking about this now. Except...there was a framed photo of them on the man's desk, and he'd fallen asleep with the man's lips against his skin, and Draco had a habit of looking at him with slipping eyes even when he was wrapped in thick bunching clothing - and Harry couldn't help but wonder what else he'd been missing, what other things he hadn't noticed that would have given the other man away sooner.  


If he'd known, could he have prevented this marriage contract from ever being written up in the first place? Or had Draco only come to realize his feeling after, when he'd been forced to let slip through his fingers his own plans for his future?  


So many questions unanswered.

 

Before Harry could second guess himself, he was snatching up the pad of Post-it notes and two pens from the desk before striding across the room and out the door. He followed the soft noises he could hear coming from the kitchen and paused in the archway, his thumb absentmindedly clicking the pen.  


Draco was gulping down a glass of water, one had pressed against the counter top with his head tipped back and throat working. His skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his jogging pants and tee-shirt clinging to him, his platinum hair slicked back with water that dripped down onto his nose as he lowered the glass. He set it by the sink, turned on the cold tap, soaked his hand and ran it through his hair in a motion that Harry bet had happened a dozen times already - his cool, wet fingers falling to rub over the back of his neck.  


Harry took a step, the damn floorboard creaked, and Draco's head snapped to the side - his gaze sliding down the length of Harry's body and back up in the span of a second, almost like it was second nature to him, like his body knew what to do before he even thought about it.   


"Harry-"  


"Before you tell me that you should go, I have a proposition for you." He interrupted him, smiling softly and watching a line of water run in a rivet down the man's cheek. His chest clenched and Harry took a steadying breath as he waited for Draco's response.  


"Alright." Draco said slowly, his body tensing slightly as Harry neared until he was trapped between the darker man and the counter.   


Harry hated seeing it - the tautness of his body, the rigid lines, every muscle pulled tight when normally they were so carefree around each other. Draco rarely polished himself around Harry, he was relaxed, he was free tongued, he pulled on him and ordered him about and laughed freely. And now...now he was utterly still and Harry could swear he saw a flicker of deep unease skirt across his irises.  


This wasn't them and it fucking hurt to know that this was what their kiss had led to.  


"Turn around." Harry smiled softly at him, noting the skeptical look that pulled itself across Draco's face before the other man complied and Harry wound his arms around him, pressing his front to the blonde’s damp back as he set the pad of Post-its on the counter. He breathed in the scent of excursion on his pale skin and brushed a kiss to the back of his wet neck. "I talked to Pansy yesterday." He started softly, one hand pressing flat against Draco's stomach and holding him against him as he clicked open the pen with his other. "She told me about your mother. I'm sorry Draco."  


The other man didn't reply but Harry could feel him suck in a sharp breath, relax, and then tense up even tighter.   


"If you want to talk it, about her, I'm here okay? I'll always be here for you."   


"Thank you." Draco said softly, his head hanging a little, fingers tightening against the counter and Harry instantly knew the movements for what they were. Draco didn't want to talk about it, perhaps ever, the topic wasn't up for conversation and it would be best if Harry steered away from it completely.  


"I want to ask you something." He peeled off the top Post-it and stuck it to the counter top, three more quickly following it until there were four blank blue squares lined up in a row. "Do you regret what happened? Between us?"  


Draco was quiet for a moment, his eyes glued to the blank Post-it's. "No...yes...I don't...both I suppose. We are a bit fucked now aren't we?"  


Harry chuckled, a tad darkly perhaps, but it rose up inside him and past his lips before he could stop it. _Fucked_ was a great word for it, he supposed. "It does seem so." He whispered as he clicked the pen twice - shut, open - his chin propping itself on Draco's shoulder. "But just so we're clear, I don't. I don't regret a single moment I've spent with you."  


"Potter -"  


"I know, _don't_ , right? I get that you don't want to talk about this but...you're planning on moving out, aren't you?"  


Draco nodded. "Yes. I don't see how I can stay."  


"Thought so." Harry closed his eyes tightly and sucked in a breath through his nose. "So here's my proposition." Lifting the pen, he touched the tip to the first Post-it and started writing. "This...this awkwardness between us is driving me mental, so if you're going to go I want this day to be for us, like we used to spend it. Just...one more day."  


"You want to spend today together." Draco clarified, pausing briefly with his teeth biting into the side of his cheek until Harry could see the unnatural indent it caused. "As friends?"  


Harry nodded and moved his pen to the second Post-it. "Yes, exactly. But I also want some answers, I need to understand...you have to know that I can't just let you go. Pansy mentioned your mother and that a child has to come through a marriage but I just...I need to know _why_ Draco. So throughout the day I want you to answer some questions, whenever you want, however you want, and you can ask some of your own if you have any." His pen flowed to the third Post-it, Draco's eyes moving right along with it like they were magnets.   


"And these are your questions?" Draco asked as he watched Harry move onto the fourth and final Post-it. Harry nodded again and Draco touched the first one with a long bony finger. "And I can answer them at any point throughout the day without you debating with me?"  


"Yes." Harry set the pen down and pulled half of the Post-it’s from the top of the pad before placing them and the second pen next to Draco's hand. "You don't have to fill them out now but if you think of anything -" Harry trailed off as Draco picked up the pen and started writing - quickly and off center and very much in a manner Harry wasn't used to seeing from him. Like he was trying to get the words onto the paper before he could talk himself out of them.  
  
  
_Does this mean we are going to pretend it never happened? Or are you going to kiss me first?_  
  
  
Harry felt his heart thump in his chest as he read the scrawled words, Draco's hand stilling on the last word with the pen leaking a spot of black against the paper. "Which do you want?"  


"I thought we weren't debating the questions." Draco answered quietly and Harry watched the edge of the pen, pressing deeper, leaking a bigger blotch with Draco's stomach still and hard beneath his hand like he was holding his breath.   


"No...I did say that, didn't I?" His throat felt dry and tight and he had to quickly squash the little voice in the back of his head reminding himself that when he had hastily formulated this plan he had firmly told himself not to do anything like this. He was to keep to his old rules. He wasn't to touch. He wasn't to kiss. This was to be a day of finding their footing again and giving into their mutual attraction wouldn't help in that endeavor.  


It would only wind them up, would only cause their emotions to spike, would inevitably blow away their rational questions with rational answers.  


But then again...  


Turning Draco slowly, Harry caught his stormy gray eyes for a brief moment before his hands were cupping Draco's face - his long black sleeves stark against his smooth, pale skin - and tugging him into a gentle kiss despite the little voice telling him not to. It was instantly electric, like flint and stone, sparks colliding as Draco sighed into his mouth, his hand flying up to cup Harry’s elbow as the other one gripped his side, and Harry couldn't make himself regret it - even with the knowledge that it would end all too soon. Because regret couldn't take root inside him as long as Draco's mouth was warm and wet with him kissing him back so eagerly.  


"Harry." Draco breathed as he pulled back, his hand running up Harry's arm until his long fingers touched the Auror's scruffy cheek. He rubbed against the grain and Harry shivered, his mouth open and sucking in shallow breathes that mingled with Draco's exhales from his lips that hadn't gone more than an inch away.   


Harry tipped forward, his lips seeking the others back out only to feel a gentle rush of air instead as the blonde stepped back, the click of the pen loud in the quiet room as Draco turned and started writing with quick, jerking movements. "Draco?" Harry bit his tongue as the man stopped, pressed the pen into the counter with the palm of his hand and turned back towards him - one of the Post-its Harry had written on first held lightly in his hand.  


Reaching out, Draco stuck the note to Harry's jumper - right over his heart - a small sad smile on his lips as his fingers splayed wide before falling slowly away. "Just so we're clear, you were right." He muttered, staring at the square on Harry's chest before darting his gaze up to lock with Harry’s, his wet hair fringing his eyes. "Since he came back I could always picture myself with someone else." His smile twitched, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly as Harry's breath caught in his rib cage. "There was always someone else I wanted to argue over watching Bond with." With one last long look, Draco turned and left, his feet padding softly down the hall until Harry could hear the shower sputter to life in the bathroom.  


Blinking at the newly vacant spot, Harry listened to his thrumming heart, the answer to the question he'd asked Draco at the tailors curling hotly inside him and spreading out in both excited wonder and dull heartache with the knowledge that even with Draco wanting someone else - wanting him - that he still couldn't have him. Merlin, he didn't know how many times he could take having these revelations, how many times he could handle having his feelings returned and dashed in the same breath.   


But he'd asked for this, he needed this, he couldn't just walk away. Seems they both were rather good at tormenting themselves. Of course he was pretty sure there was some golden rule about this - about not chasing after someone pledged to someone else - but he supposed it was in his blood to break the rules like they were nothing but insignificant twigs anyway.  


It only took a gentle tug to detach the note from his baggy jumper and with a deep breath, Harry quickly dropped his eyes and read it.   
  
~~~~  
ETHAN?  
  
  
The top of the Post-it note read in his own handwriting, the thick black scratch crossing it out confusing him for a moment. The question was the simplest one he'd written down for Draco to answer and only took one word - one name - to ask. But he needed it answered, he needed to know for some reason if Draco was still thinking about attaching himself to the other man. His brow furrowed as he stared down at it, trying in vain to understand what Draco meant by it - how crossing out his ex-boyfriends name answered anything. Did it mean he wasn't going to get back together with him despite the fact that Ethan was willing to keep their relationship always in the backseat? Or was that just wishful thinking?  


In a moment of confused desperation to understand, Harry quickly turned it over, his eyes landing on the neatly printed words marring the backside with eagerness despite the initial shock of seeing something written there.  
  
  
_And so being young  
and dipped in folly,  
I fell in love_  
  
  
Harry quickly reread the few lines several times, the words sparking a little memory that he couldn't form fully even though he knew he had heard them somewhere before. But really, that wasn't the important thing at all, because who the fucked cared who had penned them first? Harry had asked about Ethan and Draco hadn't even saw fit to answer but instead left this, a little fragment of a poem that spoke of...of, _fuck_.  


That spoke of foolishly falling in love.   


Harry couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face as he reread it over once more - hope tingling through him. Real, live hope, because for the first time since Draco uttered those fateful words of what his future held Harry hadn't allowed himself more than a shred of desperate hope and longing. But now, well now Harry held in his hand something akin to a confession - as close to one he was sure he was ever going to get anyway.  


_Love._  


Foolish, hopeless love. But love nonetheless. And Draco was his for today. His. Harry's. There was no contract that could steal that away from him. And no matter how much his head told him it was hopeless he had absolutely no intention of letting him go and maybe when all was said and done he wouldn't have to. Maybe their folly would turn out to be their saving grace.  


Glancing at the three other Post-its holding his questions on the counter top, Harry pressed a hand to his wildly beating heart and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted answers to them, he really did, but at the same time...  


_Young…folly…love._  


Maybe their folly wasn't their love, maybe it was their insecurities, their waiting, their bending to the way life wanted to push them instead of going after what they wanted.  


Spinning on his heel, Harry marched down the hallway, flung the door to the bathroom open and gave Draco absolutely no warning before he was ripping the shower curtain aside - his eyes landing on the blondes dripping, naked form with a burning heat in his gaze.  


"What are you doing Potter?" Draco demanded, his voice gruff with shock, a bar of soap held tightly in his sudsy hand.  


"I'm not giving up on us." He blurted out, clutching the curtain in a fist as he tried to calm the painful thump in his chest. He felt out of breath just standing there, holding Draco's fragmented poem in one hand like it was a hot wire pumping electricity through his veins. "I don't want to be just friends. Not even for a day."  


"But you said-"  


"I know what I said. But I love you and I don't want to hide that anymore."  


Draco blinked quickly, water running down his face and collecting in his eyelashes, his cheeks pinking from the hot water or Harry's confession he couldn't be sure. "I told you, there isn't a way." He said tightly, uncertain and dead serious at the same time.  


"You know who I am right?" Harry asked, slapping the Post-it to the wall before stepping into the shower, his baggy clothes soaking in an instant and sticking to his body. "You know I'm stubborn as all fuck, you like to remind me of that, and you know what? I’ve just decided, I'm going to be the goddamn hero of this story Draco." Something was blazing through him, catching up all his emotions and sending them careening, and he found himself throwing everything into this moment, because this was starting to feel like it was his last chance to get it all out and change the course of their future - his glasses wet and fogging and his curls plastered to his head as he crowded the other man against the slick tiled wall.   


"What?" Draco breathed, staring at him like he'd gone slightly mad, a shiver prickling over his skin as Harry reached forward and roughly placed a hand against the wall.  


"You like the hero's don't you? Bond and Han Solo. I watch you watch them more than actually watching the films you know. You told me once that heroism was the sexiest thing but you know what Bond does? Yeah, he saves the day at the end of it all but he also just takes what he wants. And you know what I want Draco."  


"If you start singing _I Can Be Your Hero Baby_ you will regret it Potter." There was something breaking in Draco's face, like the shutters he was trying to fling up were being ripped down in the same second and despite the lightness of his sarcastic drawl Harry could feel the tension radiating off of him - and he knew in that moment that Draco could feel him too. Could feel the current rushing through Harry and pushing out against him wildly.  


Ignoring the sarcastic comment that just told Harry how flustered Draco was becoming, he tipped closer and breathed over the other man’s pursed lips as he spoke in a demanding voice. "I told you Draco, I've been wanting this for years and now it's your turn. You're going to tell me, when was it that it changed for you? Was it before or after you signed the contract?"  


"Before." Draco snarled like he was mad at himself for answering, mad at Harry for asking, his hands rising and placing them against Harry's shoulders - pushing with his palms, bunching into the sopping material with his fingers.  


"And the men? Were you trying to kill me with that parade of one night stands that has been tramping through our flat all year?"  


"No, you git, I didn't know for sure that you...you never said!"  


"Neither did you!" Harry bellowed back, tears pricking his eyes to mix with the too hot shower water.   


"This doesn't even fucking matter!" Draco growled, his head knocking loudly back against the tile, his face tipping up into the spray like he was trying to wash his rising emotions away. "I can't have you."  


"You're not listening to me Draco." Harry pressed, slipping his hand to the back of Draco's neck and pressing till the man was forced to look back at him. "You're getting a damn hero if you want one or not."  


"We are not in some inane movie Potter, you can't just fix everything just because you want to." Draco snapped, looking both fierce and tired, not even bothering to blink the drops of water out of his eyes any longer.  


Shaking his head, Harry snatched the glasses from his nose that he couldn't see through anymore anyway and tossed them towards the washbasin, his thumb pressing harshly into Draco's jaw as he turned his focus back towards him. "You're right, we're not, this is our _lives_. We both have to live with the choices we make now and until you give me a damn good reason not to, I'm not going to stop fighting for this, you are the love of my life Draco Malfoy and to me that's worth everything."  


"What?" Draco was stumbling inside his own head again, his body going slightly slack against the tile, his wet eyes searching Harry's face - his gaze prying deep. "I...I can't do this Harry, it's too late. I shouldn't have come back, I should have -"  


"Stop it." Harry commanded as his grip tightened. "Hasn't your incessant obsession with Bond taught you anything? There's always a way." And with a wary smile and before Draco could respond, Harry pressed forward and fastened their lips together. The kiss was wet and hot and tasted like water and soap and Harry half expected to be shoved away at any moment. But Draco’s lips just parted on a broken groan and he melted forward like all his strength had been siphoned out of him.  


"I can't make you any promises." Draco murmured between kisses, his hands wrapping around Harry's shoulders, gripping tightly, and bunching in the water heavy jumper. "I don't know...God Harry, I don't bloody know...but this is going to end badly. We will be nothing but fools."  


"Then dip me in folly because I will not let you go." Pressing Draco into his arms, Harry captured his mouth once more, the roaring blaze inside him still screaming higher until he could feel it catch inside the other man as well.   


He could feel it suddenly and intensely in the curl of the blondes pale fingers in his jumper, the press of his hips harsh and desperate, a groan on his tongue that Harry swallowed. Harry's back hit the wall hard, the shower sputtered and burned hot, but neither of them moved - their embrace blacking everything else out around them, Draco pushing out of his mind his duty and Harry pressing his wants into the empty space that was left behind. Their kiss, their touch, everything in that moment felt like an argument, an agreement, a standstill, and Harry knew that they still had a long way to go - there was still so much to figure out but he hadn't been joking, he'd been perfectly serious.  


Draco was his heart and he wasn't letting go.  


Fucking marriage contract be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! So we are nearing the end *gasp*! I'm almost sad about that, I'm getting a bit to attached to this version of Harry and Draco ;( I know these last few chapters have been a bit emotionally heavy but I hope you all are still enjoying it and I had totally planned for Harry to be all calm and logical and in control this chapter but well...you know Harry, he just wasn't having it! 
> 
> Oh! And the bit of poem that Draco writes if from Romance by Edgar Allen Poe


	12. Rewind, Unravel

  
  
  
  
Harry's lips were bruised and he couldn't stop touching them. His fingers ran over them without thought, pressing in till they stung just ever so slightly, reminding him of the punishing forcefulness of Draco's kiss, of his teeth. He shifted against the cool tile with his back against the edge of the bathtub and closed his eyes - seeing miles of pale skin blooming with bruises on a jutting hipbone, pink lips falling open on a gasp, the slick wall against his cheek with his hand fisting into his own hair flashing behind his eyelids.   


And even though the room had been steadily cooling he could still feel the humid air, the burn of the water, the sound of his heavy clothes hitting the tile and Draco's fingers leaving long red scratches in their wake. It had been nothing like the loving eagerness of their first time, nor like the conflicted urgency of their second. It had been unbearably fast - Harry claiming and Draco punishing him for it. They hadn't spoken, they'd kissed and clawed, and Harry had cum with his front shoved against the tiled wall and Draco's prick slipping through the crease in his arse with the man's hand on his cock.

  
Harry had snarled nonsense at him for it, for refusing (again) to take him fully like he wanted. Like he needed. But Draco had just bit him (hard and marking), dug his nails (deep and indented), and moved against him harshly - so close, so very close but never penetrating.  


Harry sighed as he lifted his hand to rub at his ear - trying to dispel the remembered sensation of Draco panting against it as they fought against each other. He had cum ridiculously hard with Draco all but growling in his ear and when it was all said and done they had just stood slumped against the wall - the water going cold and beating down on them with Harry smashed between it and the blonde. It was somewhere in those lost moments that Harry swore he had felt the fight leave Draco's body as he had buried his face in the back of Harry's neck and squeezed his hip painfully tight.

  
And now here they were, sitting on the bathroom floor (Harry dressed in his baggy sleep pants and Draco wrapped in the darker man's too big jumper, the hem reaching all the way down to his pale thighs, both of them still damp from an absentminded drying charm), with their legs too long to be stretched out fully and thus bent and crooked as they silently stared at the cabinet opposite them - their fingers a hairs breath away from touching on the ground. 

  
There was a heaviness inside him, pressing against his lungs and making it hard to swallow. He had come crashing down from his blazing high in a split second, the muffled sound of what could only be sorrow scratching quietly from Draco's throat as the man had pressed his cheek into his shoulder, vibrating through him before the blonde had moved to turn off the shower without a word.

  
It had been such a small sound. Barely heard. But it broke his heart anyway, his mind trying to shove away the traitorous thought that even hero's lost their loves sometimes. More often than not. Too often. He felt a bit like he was living on a roller coaster, one with high twists and turns that plunged into the dark with only brief flashes of light. Like he was soaring up with hope and determination only to free fall into a darkening depression moments later.  


There was a soft rustle, a gentle sigh, and then the barest brush of fingers against his - light, hesitant.  


"She fell ill during the war." Draco spoke quietly, haltingly, and Harry didn't dare turn to look at him but he couldn't stop his own fingers from moving - wrapping tight around Draco's and straining his ears to hear the unexpected explanation. "A curse gone horribly bad according to father, some darkness that took root inside her that can't be removed. I've been looking for a cure but..." he trailed off, the ending of the sentence hanging but clear as day anyway.  


There was none. She would die and Draco would have to just watch it happen.  


"I'm so sorry Draco." He whispered back as he squeezed his hand.   


"I thought after the war that she was getting better, she seemed to be anyway, for a while at least. But then, well...we got into a disagreement." Draco didn't need to say what it was about. His shunning of their way of life, his chosen career, his life style, his obsession with all things muggle, his coming out. Ethan. Harry. All the men in between. "She's been getting steadily worse ever since but this past year has been...the Healers think it won't be too much longer now."  


Harry's throat constricted, his chest squeezing, Draco's tone something he had never heard before. It was low and tired and resigned, speaking of endless days of searching and hoping, living and breathing and knowing his own mother was close to her last breath while he'd continue on. It was a tone filled with self-loathing and sorrow. Rubbing his thumb over Draco's knuckles, Harry scooted closer until their sides were pressed together, his eyes locking on the patch of skin that Draco's borrowed jumper was desperately trying to keep covered but failing miserably.

 

He couldn't imagine keeping something so big a secret, letting it fester silently inside him, and Harry couldn't fathom how Draco had done it - how he'd been so strong through it all with nothing to support him. Or maybe, perhaps not nothing. Pansy knew every little bit of it, and she was willing to stand by him through it all.

 

"I don't think I can ever describe how it felt, the night she broke down...I remember standing in the parlor, shouting at Father about useless things...completely fucking useless things..." Draco murmured, drifting off with eyes gone glossy and distant when Harry peeked over at him. "She took my hand in both of hers, her skin felt like parchment crumbled and straightened a million times over, and she pleaded with me to right our family. To _fix it_ she said. She was acting so much like the night she had begged me not to take the Mark and I couldn't...I couldn't say no." He sucked in a breath and screwed his eyes shut, his hand going painfully tight around Harry's. "Not again. So I'm..."  


"You're getting married." Harry finished for him, his head falling to rest against Draco's shoulder.  


"I'm getting married." Draco mirrored, his legs shifting out until his heel kicked against the cabinet.  


"To fix it?" Harry clarified, his free hand coming round to play with the thick fabric of the jumper covering Draco's chest, the blonde's small nod rustling his wet hair. "But how...how does that fix anything?" It didn't make any logical sense, what good would an arranged marriage would do for anything but make her son miserable?  


"An heir Harry, can restore our bright future. Or so mother believes...and she's not alone in it, she says it's written in the stars _,_ that my son will right what’s turned wrong within our walls. Like a child will miraculously clear our ruined name and heal her body and restore my father’s mind and Merlin knows what she thinks it will do for me. Turn me straight maybe...God I don't know, sometimes I think my mother's lost her mind and that I must be losing mine too, to even think about going along with this." He let out a humorless laugh as he shook his head, his chin dropping to press into Harry's temple. "Perhaps you're right after all Potter, perhaps I am a raving nutter."  


"Not _raving_." Harry ensured him, a small smile on his lips as he lifted his head and caught Draco's eye, his fingers lifting to lightly touch the man's cheek. "Beside I rather like that side of you, even when you do wreck our entire flat because of it."  


Draco snorted and leant into Harry's touch. "You shouldn't be encouraging me Harry, or one day you might wake up to that ginormous flat screen telly that you wouldn't let me get taking up an entire wall in the living room."  


Grinning, Harry nudged his face forward, his nose bumping into Draco's and bringing his lips tantalizingly close. Closing his eyes, he backed away a fraction, just enough to remove immediate temptation of both kissing him and pointing out that in order to cover their wall in a ridiculously large television that he'd have to keep living there. With him. "But why marriage? Why Pansy?" Harry asked, unable to keep the question to himself despite the turmoil he could feel emitting from the other man.   


Angling towards him, Draco brought a knee up to his chest, his arm wrapping securely around it as Harry watched him debate his answer, his stormy eyes fixed on his protruding knee like it held all the answers. When he finally started speaking, it was slow, his words unfurling carefully and purposefully.  


"Purebloods don't recognize a child born out of wedlock. Our son or daughter wouldn't get my name or his rightful inheritance if we don't make it official...and we don't do divorce either. It's like they purposely wrote their laws and traditions with the mind to completely fuck over future generations." He bit his lip as he paused, his fingers spreading wide over his knee before curling into a fist and disappearing completely inside the stretched out sleeve. "So really, I have two options as I see it. Have a child out of wedlock for my mother but ruin my child's future and our name further, which in essence basically ruins over my mother's plans as well, or get married and fuck myself over but do the _right thing_ by my family."  


"But." Harry cleared his throat and slid his hand atop Draco's fist, his fingers pushing up the woolly sleeve until he could feel his too warm skin. "But surely the laws can be changed if they haven't been already, I mean, Hermione is always going on about how the wizarding world is getting dragged into the current age. And if your mum is hoping that you having a family will be the fresh start she thinks the Malfoy name needs then maybe the legality of it won't matter to her. Maybe she doesn't understand what it will cost you. Maybe she's just unwell and desperate to see you settled...she loves you Draco, so won't she just want you and your son to be loved as well? Wouldn't that be better than what the other purebloods think?"  


"Doubtful and you can be sure that father won't agree on that point." He answered with a sigh and a bite to his words that Harry hadn't been expecting.  


"But you're not doing this for him are you?"  


"Point taken." Draco drew in a breath and glanced away. "But it's not as if there are dozens of pureblood witches out there willing to bed a homosexual just to get pregnant and then sent on her merry way."  


"There are other ways." Harry murmured, refusing to ponder why making that one tiny suggestion made his heart flutter and throat constrict while at the same time purposely not asking why he hadn't thought of Pansy to fill that role. Something told him it would have been wrong to, that marrying Pansy was one thing but this would be something else entirely and Harry couldn't even pretend to understand what the motivation behind her actions were. But he had a feeling that she couldn't risk her name (already ruined as it was for her families part in the war) to get muddied any further and maybe that was why Draco wouldn't even think to ask her.  


"You're forgetting about my pretty little tattoo Harry, it may just be a scar now but people still see it as it once was and you know a surrogate won't come near anything with my name attached to it with a ten foot pole and adoption doesn't exactly continue the bloodline now does it?"  


Harry smiled and carefully turned Draco's arm over as he pushed the sleeve up past the man's elbow, his fingers skipping over the long scar marring the otherwise smooth skin. He could remember when Draco's Mark had started to change, creeping black ink disintegrating with time like it was being carefully burnt from his skin - the snake and skull slowly being eaten by the red, chaffed, and clawed flesh until it was no more. Nothing but a scar. Nothing but a haunting memory that still somehow had the power to brand him.   


Biting his lip he covered the cursed flesh with his palm, his fingers spreading as wide as they would go, until they ached at the joints. "Perhaps, but I could add another scar to the mix, people still like to stare at it too if you recall, more so than yours even wouldn't you say?" He spoke with a forced lightness to his tone and directly to Draco's forearm, unable to gather the courage to look up and into the other man's face as he let the suggestion fill in the silence around them.   


Draco froze, his arm going stiff in Harry's grasp. "Harry...what _exactly_ are you saying?"  


"You were the one who pointed out the fact that I want a family weren't you?" He made himself glance up and catch Draco's eye, his cheeks flushing and a strange nervous buzz whispering through his ears like a rushing river. He felt a bit like he _should_ be a tad concerned that he seemed to be skipping some vital steps. Like dating. Like a few years with just the two of them. But fuck, it’s not like he didn't know what living with Draco would be like. It wasn't like he needed to get to know him inside and out. It wasn't like he needed time to fall head over heels for the man.   


He already did, he already had. He knew it all and he loved it all. And Merlin, if this could be a swaying factor he'd be a massive pillock if he didn't say something. He wanted this, God he desperately wanted all of it - Draco, children, a stupidly cliché house with a wooden swing out front - which somehow ended up making him feel a little less like an action movie hero and more like a quiet, brooding, _I will kill for you my darling but will spend most days just petting this super cute puppy_ _while making eyes at you_ hero from a cheesy romance novel complete with deep confessions of love, sappy eye contact, and god - Draco was even wearing his shirt during this whole thing.   


He scowled at his own spinning thoughts that seemed to have gone round the bend and taken his sanity with it. Or maybe he was just fucking nervous as all hell. He swallowed and licked his lips before dropping his voice an octave to hide his thumping pulse and finishing his answer. "And I've already told you Draco, I love you and I meant it."   


"You'd...?" Draco's throat moved visibly as he blinked quickly before he was suddenly pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut - his face flushing bright with his breathing having gone thick and shallow. "Fuck Harry, it _doesn't_ matter though. No matter what Hermione says, our traditions won't change and I've already signed a legally binding contract -"  


"Pansy said she'd release you." He interrupted him as he pried Draco's hand away from his face and held it tightly in his own. "You just have to ask."  


"She -" Draco shook his head quickly and shifted his gaze about in order to avoid making eye contact, his thoughts visibly spinning in his head at a frantic pace. "It's not that simple."  


"I don't care if it's simple, I only care if it can be done." Pushing the blondes knee down, Harry slipped his body over his and straddled Draco's naked thighs, his hands moving around the other man's neck and resting his forehead against his lightly. He closed his eyes for a moment and let himself savor the feeling of being so close to him again, that strange fluttering in his stomach and rushing in his ears picking up intensity when Draco let out a quiet sigh that released a bit of tension in his shoulders. "You haven't gone running yet which makes me think there is a chance and if there is, no matter the odds, I will win Draco." He let his smile spread across his lips as Draco's gaze darted down to them. "I'm the hero remember? Not to mention that shitty odd are my specialty after all."   


"Your specialty? Reading into your own press now are you?" Draco whispered, his hands grasping Harry's hip tighter than was necessary.  


Shrugging, Harry nestled closer, wiggling on the other man's lap until he could feel the sharpness of the blondes hips under him. "If I was reading my own press I think I might be a tad more concerned with my alleged sexual appetites and wondering how I possibly manage to spend so much time in sex clubs."  


"Those are the tabloids, not the press." Draco chuckled, shifting against the bathtub and sinking a little further down on the floor, his arms slipping around Harry's waist and tugging.  


"Same thing." He winked, his back rounding ever so slightly as Draco's fingers dipped inside his sleep pants at the small of his back. "Don't start something you're not going to finish." He warned, his body already lighting - Merlin but it was too easy to get wound up around Draco. It only took one little touch, the slightest of looks, and Harry could fall apart all over again.  


Perhaps it had to do with years of holding himself back, of quelling his desire and hiding the heat in his gaze. Or maybe he was just fucking nuts for the man. Merlin he really was an overly sappy romance novel hero wasn't he? Maybe he should start riding his motorcycle more often...   


"I'm not starting anything." Draco murmured innocently as he leaned forward and brushed a kiss along Harry's naked shoulder. "Besides I'm not in a skirt nor do I have a horde of men waiting outside ready to use you up, so I suppose that makes me not quite your type yeah?"  


"Now who’s reading my press?"  


"Tabloids."  


"Merlin, we're just going in circles now."   


Draco let out a laugh, soft but real, a sound that started low in his stomach and rumbled out past his lips with a genuine smile - the small sound somehow managing to only fuel Harry's growing desire even more. He stared quietly at Harry for a moment before loosening his hold on him slightly, the darkness in his eyes shifting as he looked away. "We should probably get up."  


Harry cocked his head and pulled a thoughtful express across his face. "I rather like where I am thank you." He smirked, his arse wiggling, and eyebrow lifted.   


"We're on the floor Harry." Draco pointed out.  


"Yup."  


"In the bathroom."  


"Bathroom, really? Huh, I always wondered what this room was called..."  


Stifling a laugh, Draco shoved the man to the side and swung up onto his feet - the oversized jumper just barely covering his private bits and showcasing his long, slim legs. He scowled down at his toes and with a quick jerking movement, snatched up his boxers and wand - flourishing a quick charm over them before tugging them up onto his hips, the formfitting material barely peeking out from under the jumper.   


Yet somehow it only made him look even sexier. Which felt a bit backwards but as Harry grinned up at him from his spot sprawled on the floor he felt a flush rush over his body and mind degrade to useless mush. Which in hindsight was probably why he didn't notice until it was too late just what exactly Draco had been rummaging around in the top drawer for until the blonde was staring down at him with a dangerous glint and dreadful smirk.  


And even then it took several long seconds before recognition clicked into place.  


"No, I already told you no." Harry protested, his own feet stumbling slightly on his waded up socks on the floor as he scrambled upright.  


"You wanted to stay in here didn't you?" Draco snickered with the damn electric razor held threateningly in his hand. "Well this is what people do in the bathroom Harry."  


"Muggles don't shave other muggles with that thing Draco." Backing away slowly, Harry clipped his shoulder on the door that stood ajar and felt the warmth of the carpeted hallway connect with his heel.   


"How would you know that exactly? Or is that Harry Potter's new thing? Will I be reading about your odd shaving fetish next week?" His smirk deepened as he took a step closer, the razor buzzing with a flick of the man's thumb.   


"Didn't peg you for an avid tabloid consumer." Harry retorted as he rocked back on his foot, angling himself in preparation to make a run for it if need be.  


Draco shrugged. "What can I say, I see your name and I can't seem to help myself." There was a predatory gleam lighting in his eyes, the smirk on his lips a natural curve that fit his features so perfectly, his voice even and drawling and...fuck, Harry had missed this.  


He opened his mouth, his hand clenched the doorjamb, and his heart sped up in his chest as he stared back at the blonde - the always put together man in Harry's old jumper with wet curling hair and bare legs and toes, holding that stupid muggle purchase of his. Staring and smirking and god damn, breathtakingly gorgeous. "Fucking nuts Malfoy." He heard himself say, like he had a million times over in the past, and Draco grinned - thick and malicious.  


Or it would have been if Harry didn't know better.  


They moved in the same instant, Harry propelling himself out of the doorway and down the hall with quickly moving steps that moments later evolved into an all-out run, and Draco chasing right along behind him. He knew how it would end before he even reached the living room, Draco had always been faster than him, and he had the largest, stupidest (manically happy) grin on his face when the inevitable happened and he felt Draco catch him around the waist.  


They tumbled to the floor, the breath knocking out of his lungs with a choking laugh as his head thunked back on the carpet. He blinked as he felt weight pressing over him, his hands trapped above his head and Harry felt like they had somehow managed to back pedal in time - like it was weeks ago and they had just been dodging each other’s squirt guns. Back before it had all tipped sideways and gotten so complicated.  


Draco snickered down at him, his face close, his thighs tight around Harry's hips - the electric shaver discarded on the floor by their fingertips. "Do you surrender?" Draco demanded, not sounding the least bit out of breath even though Harry felt like the touch of the other man atop him had stolen all the air from the flat.  


"Never." Harry retorted, his body going lax against the floor.  


"Well then," Draco murmured and Harry was sure that the man was going to pin him down and actually try to use the damn muggle device on him but in the next second his wrists were getting pressed harshly into the carpet with one hand as the other one plucked the glasses from his nose - Draco's hair falling against his forehead as they disappeared from view.  


He opened his mouth to say something (unimportant, sarcastic), his eyes going slightly cross-eyed as he watched Draco's gaze slip down his face with three fingers coming up to rub against his cheek and all that ended up coming out was something halfway between a gasp and moan.  


"You know," Draco murmured, the nail of his thumb scratching against Harry's stubble. "I rather like this."  


A shiver passed down Harry's spine as he blinked and licked his lips. "And yet you keep trying to shave me."  


Draco nodded and bent even closer until his smooth cheek was pressed against Harry's rough one. "Always wondered what it would feel like."  


"What, what would feel like?" He tried to keep himself steady, to sound in control, but his breath ended up hitching in his throat as Draco's hand tightened on his wrists and he felt a warm wet tongue trace its way around the curve of his ear. "Draco." He gasped, arching and turning his head on the carpet, opening himself up to the other man's mouth.  


"You really shouldn't be this hard to stop." Draco murmured and Harry furrowed his brow in confusion but then Draco was kissing him again and he melted away until he was nothing but a puddle on the carpet as he kissed him back just as fervently, his body pushing up into the other man's as every nerve ending inside him sang.  


"Oh I really could have gone a lifetime without witnessing this." A vaguely familiar voice sighed and Harry found himself blinking blindly up at a blurry figure moving towards them as Draco jerked abruptly back like he'd been slapped.  


"Pansy? What are you doing here?" Draco's voice sounded scratchy, his hand releasing his hold on Harry's wrists as he sat back on the darker man's thighs - Harry's gaze jumping towards the fireplace and taking in the faintly green splash of color that hadn't yet drained away completely. Merlin, why had they ever decided that it would be a good idea to let their friends have open access to their floo?   


"Theo said you left to retrieve a clean set of clothing and never returned." Pansy said and though she was little more than a blurry blob Harry got the distinct impression that she was staring intently at him. "Really shouldn't be all that surprised I suppose." She grumbled, striding away from them and with a groan from the cushions fell back onto the couch.  


Harry thought briefly of telling her _to get the fuck out_ but Draco was already slipping off his lap, somehow managing do so with a shocking amount of grace and dignity as he rose to his feet - like he hadn't just been straddling his flatmate wearing only a jumper and underwear in front of his...Merlin she was his fiancé wasn't she? He hauled Harry to his feet a second later and with a fuzzy jerk of his hand Harry found his glasses being shoved back onto his nose as he told his pulse to stop racing - his mind (unhelpfully) still back on the floor, pinned beneath Draco with a sinful tongue in his mouth.  


It was just his shitty luck that they would be interrupted the moment they had let their anxiety and fears drop, as soon as Draco was smiling freely. Laughing and chasing him through the flat like everything was good again. He could already feel the unease crawling back up the other man's spine, could feel the shift in his demeanor and how he held himself. Shut off. Closed down. It happened so quickly, like a ripple spreading out through a lake from one little pebble.  


He shook his head and blinked, dispelling the thoughts and turning to concentrate on the sudden intrusion. "Thanks." He mumbled as Draco's hand fell away but the blonde wasn't looking at him, he was staring down at Pansy with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hi Pansy." Harry said after cleaning his throat, his cheeks pink as he crossed his arms over his exposed chest, mentally telling himself that he had nothing to be embarrassed about. Merlin knew the woman already knew they had gotten up to much more than half naked kissing.  


"Potter." She grinned - the expression something that felt outwardly friendly but left Harry feeling oddly suspicious. But perhaps that wasn't exactly fair. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything." Her grin morphed into a smirk, her eyebrow cocking as her gaze darted down his body.   


"I need to talk to you actually." Draco chimed in before Harry could respond - sounding even pitched and in control, his jaw set firmly.   


"That's why I'm here, Draco dear." Pansy crossed her legs and relaxed back against the couch cushions, her eyes locking with Draco's and for a brief moment something softened in her gaze - the smirk slipped, the haughty polish vanished and Harry felt like he was left standing on the outside looking in on an intimate conversation that he couldn't hear or understand.   


In the next moment Draco was nodding and glancing off to the side and it was gone, leaving Harry blinking and wondering if he had imagined it somehow. "Just give me a moment to get ready." Draco murmured, his heel turning sharply on the carpet and taking him in firm strides down the hallway.  


"So erm -" Harry heard himself stutter out, his gaze following Draco's retreating back until he disappeared into his bedroom. But the click of the door shutting never came and Harry's hand curled tightly and unfurled slowly by his side as he stood stuck to the spot, something already aching again inside him - the light sound of Pansy shifting on the couch only making it worse. "I'll just -"

 

Why did it feel like...  


Like everything was fraying around the edges, like it was about to unwind between his hands at such a rapid clip that he wouldn't be able to stop it - to hold it together? 

  
"Get dressed?" Pansy finished for him and Harry swore he heard her chuckle softly as he nodded absentmindedly - his feet already taking him down the hallway without him even thinking it through completely, his mind fully occupied with the thought of keeping it from unraveling, trying to figure out a way to make sure the key threads stayed intact.  


He stopped in Draco's open bedroom door and watched with a growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach as the blonde shrugged a shirt onto his shoulders before slipping his arms through the warm heavy weighted robes in a rich green that fell with a swish around his feet. They were one of his finer pairs of robes - formal, stiff but elegant. Robes he rarely wore except to very certain places. His pale hand raked through his hair, a concentrated scowl on his face as his finger twisted through one of the more drastic curls.   


Swallowing through his thick throat, Harry dropped his head until his temple pressed into the doorjamb. "When will you be back?" He asked quietly, _knowing_ that Draco needed to go and talk with Pansy, that the fact that the man felt he _needed_ to talk to her had to be a good thing - didn't it? But that knowledge didn't mean that he wasn't apprehensive about the whole thing. He had this unsettling feeling that he shouldn't let the blonde leave, that he needed to keep him in his arms, keep him in their home.   


Merlin, he just needed to _keep_ him in general.  


Draco paused with his hands on the little buttons of his robes - his thumb fiddling with the tiny fastening for a long quiet moment. "I think...I should stay away for a while, until I can figure this out."  


Harry bit his lip and nodded, wondering why that little turn of phrase hurt a little. _Figure this out_. Like they being together was something wrong, something broken, something that needed fixing. But then, he supposed, all things considered they were. Because no matter how many moments they shared, how many kisses they exchanged, how many promises they spoke, Draco was still pledged to someone else. He still had a duty to his family.   


"Okay, just don't...um-" His voice broke and trailed off into nothing as he squeezed his eyes shut.  


"Harry." Draco murmured quietly and he was suddenly quiet close, his hand closing around Harry's.  


"I know." He nodded, trying to sound like he wasn't falling apart. Again. "I get it."  


"I don't think you do exactly." Draco said sharply and Harry's eye popped open as he felt a touch linger on his waist. "I can't stay because I can't seem to keep myself from you. Doesn't exactly make it easy to think straight having you muddling it all up in my head." He was smiling, that sad little smile again but it warmed Harry's heart none the less.  


"Sounds like the perfect reason for me to keep you here then." He rebutted with a little smile of his own, his arms wrapping around Draco until he was nestled warmly against him, his face pressing into the side of his neck.  


Hugging him back tightly, Draco buried his face in Harry's hair - both of them putting off the inevitable for as long as possible as they stood silently in the doorway. Then when Draco pulled back, brushing the hair from Harry's forehead with a fond look in his eyes, Harry reached out and grasped the collar of his robe tightly before dragging him into a hungry kiss - _winding, winding, winding_ that one last thread around them, pushing his promises, his love into the kiss, and hoping it was enough. He pulled back before he was ready to and with one last smile, he stepped to the side and let the other man go - his heart hammering as Draco walked back out into the living room, the floo flaring to life moments later and sweeping him away.   


He leaned back against the doorjamb and stared unseeingly into Draco's abandoned bedroom, mentally replaying all that had happened and trying to convince himself that he had said enough - done enough - to help sway Draco's mind, to show the man that to _try_ would be worth it.  


With a heavy sigh, he pushed upright and was turning away when his eye caught back on Draco's desk. His pulse raced as he took a step forward, his head cocking to the side as blood rushed in his ears. Reaching out, he plucked up the last picture frame that had housed the photograph of the two of them from its spot lying face down on the wood. Turning it over, he felt a smile twitch on his lips as his gaze fell on empty glass.  


The photo was gone and Harry suddenly felt like maybe, somehow, the odds were starting to stack in their favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Hope you liked the chapter, I was originally just going to mention this whole scene between them while Harry was doing something else but then I realized that if I was a reader that would piss me off not getting to see it, so hopefully you feel the same way to and don't want to throttle me due to another chapter of long ass discussions ;)
> 
> So it's official, this is will be 14 chapters in total (oh gosh so close to the end!) with a possible epilogue (so I suppose in that case it will be 15 chapters long)...I'm leaning towards writing one but we shall see - I have a little but of a love/hate relationship with epilogues. 
> 
> Hugs and kisses!


	13. In Need Of a Tin Opener

  
  
  
  
"I don't think this is entirely safe." Harry muttered, his hand wavering slightly as his vision split and watered before merging back together, the tip of his wand wobbling in his unsteady grip.  


"Never stopped us before." Ron snickered with the crisp pop of a cork being wrestled free from a bottle behind him.  


"True." Harry laughed, squinting his eyes and setting his face and feet firmly like that would help keep his hand steady and vision from going shoddy.  


There were five bottles lined up on his kitchen counter - three muddy brown and short, two tall and tinted with wide bases and sloping shoulders. He aimed for one of the larger wine bottles, the one with the label that had already been picked off by his own fidgeting fingers over an hour ago. Sucking in a breath, he held it in his chest and flourished his wand, his feet stumbling back a step as the glass imploded - collapsing in on itself with a sucking pop before exploding outwards in a perfect sphere of splintered glass that hovered in the air like a tiny glittering planet.

  
He grinned as the sharp shards rained down and fell in a precise circle on the counter top - the wreckage oddly beautiful.  


"See, feels good doesn't it?" Ron laughed before muttering a curse and Harry saw the hand towel folded neatly by the hob go flying towards the redhead.  


Harry nodded and without glancing back to see what damage Ron had caused with his fumbling fingers, took aim and twitched his wand again - the loud shattering of the smaller muddy glass ringing in his ears, his hand moving and demolishing the bottle next to it before the shards had even settled.  


He had (foolishly) assumed he had grown out of the phase of his life where wrecking destruction could simmer in his blood and push out all his troubles for that one tiny, perfect moment. The shattering of glass, crystal clear, catching light and sparkling bright, held like a ball of crusted snow a few inches above his counter caught something inside his chest and held on tight - pushing out in pulses with each flick of his wand, with each burst of defiant power, watching something bend, something fall, something become even more beautiful in its own destruction.  


He was breathing fast and rough by the time the last bottle burst - leaving his counter covered in circles of bits of colored glass, his hand flexing with the intoxicating pull rushing through his veins as he lowered his wand.  


"I'm out of bottles." He said, flipping his wand through his fingers and glancing back at his friend lounging at the table - a water glass filled full of the newly opened wine with the once white hand towel crumbled up beside him and stained a deep red.  


"Guess we'll just have to drink more then." Ron hiccupped, holding up his glass in a sloppy solute before taking a large gulp. "Ugh, you really need to keep more beer in the flat instead of all this wine, makes my tongue feel like the fucking desert."  


"Yeah." Harry laughed, dropping down into the chair opposite Ron and pulling the bottle towards him as he eyed the label before taking a drink straight from the lip. "You do know Draco's going to kill you when he finds out which bottles you've been opening right?"  


"Serves the bastard right." Ron glowered. "Still can't believe he's going to marry that cow."  


" _Might_ marry that cow." Harry corrected.  


"Well either way, he deserves to have all his precious wine drunk for what he's done. Think about it Harry, it’s the perfect justice! The maggot will come crawling back and you'll smother him with those creepy smiles and kisses that I _do not_ want to hear about later and then he'll open the cabinet and WHAM! Justice smiles down in the form of nothing but year old bottles left for him to choose from!"  


"Really? Only year old bottles? You do realize how large his collection is right?"  


Ron nodded solemnly, a hand pressed over his heart. "I do and I shall take that bullet for you Harry. It's what friends are for."  


Smiling down at the bottle in his grasp with a little laugh rumbling through his chest, Harry's sluggish thoughts began their premature unwinding from his destruction high and started circling back to the blonde like they had been doing since Draco had left that morning. He had firecalled Ron and Hermione shortly afterwards, his two friends sweeping through his floo less than hour later after having dropped off Hugo at Molly's. And Harry had spilled everything right there in front of the fireplace as they dusted the ash from their clothes. It had all rushed out of him like the flood gates had been released and he found that as he spoke his knees began to wobble, his head began to throb, his heart constricting all over again - but he hadn't cried. He was done with crying.  


Though regardless of keeping the tears inside Harry was pretty sure he looked like a wreck. He couldn't hide his tremulous feelings and the fact that he was dangling over heartbreak - couldn't properly shroud the fact that he'd crashed down that slope and climbed back up out of it over and over again countless times in the span of three days, leaving invisible bruises over every inch of his body.  


Their reactions had been exactly as he would have expected - Ron started swearing and threatening to find Draco and hex the daylights out of him as Hermione eyed him carefully and asked a series of logical questions after hugging him tightly and whispering how sorry she was. It was comforting, being in her embrace, hearing Ron's livid curses, answering the questions Hermione asked as Ron paced angrily.  


They were predictable when Harry felt like everything he knew had been tipped on its head.  


She had left a few hours ago, her brow furrowed and something spinning wildly in her head as she muttered a quick, "I'll be back..." before disappearing through the floo. The moment the flames died down Ron had drug him into the kitchen, smacked a bottle of beer down before him and ordered him to drink as the redhead threw together two cold turkey sandwiches - the hearty meal heavy in Harry's stomach and reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet that day.  


The single bottle of beer turned into two, then Ron raided the wine cabinet and well...Harry had lost count of how much he'd drunk. But he felt both light and heavy, his skin tingling, his mind fuzzy and slipping, looping into daydreams of Draco returning and worrying that he wouldn't, cycling between laughing with Ron and blinking back tears. Ron had lined up the bottles on the counter after the last time Harry's eyes had turned red and he'd stuttered off mid-sentence. He hadn't actually thought that destroying the glass would do an ounce of good, but somehow it had, he felt a little better, a little more in control in a situation where no matter how much he wished otherwise he realized that he really had none.  


"He took our picture with him." Harry heard himself say and wrinkled his brow as he took another drink, trying to stop his stupid tongue from bringing his situation back up.  


"Your what?" Ron asked, pushing back from the table and striding to the fridge, yanking it open and bending to rummage around inside.  


"He had a picture of us in his bedroom. He took it with him when he left...well pretty sure he did anyway, the frame was empty in any case." He picked at the label, his thumb blotting out the vintage as he heard Draco's voice drawl in his head, ( _"Merlin Potter, you can't just drink it, it needs to breathe you uncouth barbarian."_ ). He shifted in his chair and cast his eyes briefly towards the drawer he knew held the aerator that Draco would begrudgingly use in a pinch before scowling at himself and taking a large gulp just out of spite.  


He hadn't even known what the fuck an aerator was and why one would possibly feel the need to use one before he'd started getting on with Draco anyway.  


"Was this before or after he wrote you a poem?" Ron emerged from the fridge with his arms laden with food, his foot catching the door and kicking it shut as he dumped his load onto the counter and started sorting through it. "Bloody hell, you guys have way too many vegetables for two bachelors. Is it a gay thing?"  


"No, it's a health thing." Harry snickered. "And after. Plus he didn't write it, it's somewhat famous I think."  


"Doesn't matter, don't think I've ever even _copied_ a poem for Hermione." Ron pulled a butter knife from the drawer and scratched behind his ear with his other hand as he debated the miss mashed assortment before him with a frown – like glaring at it hard enough and long enough would magically make it arrange itself into a delicious meal fit enough to feed the both of them. "Toast it is." He proclaimed a moment later, snagging the bag of bread next to the toaster and slipping two slices free before popping them into the slots. "Jam and cream cheese sound good?"  


"Yeah." Harry nodded absentmindedly. "So...so what do you think about...everything?"  


Ron twisted off the lid on the jar of strawberry jam and thrust the butter knife inside, turning to lean back against the counter as he stirred the stiff preserves with a thoughtful look blinking onto his face. "I think it's safe to say he's as big a nutter as I always told you he was."  


"...Ron." Harry sighed, slumping in his chair and cradling the wine bottle in his lap as his finger tapped over the glass.  


"Well he is, isn't he? He's obviously mad for you, writing poems and all that, reminds me of Lavender." He let out an over the top shudder before shooting Harry a crackling grin which earned him a glare.  


"He's not anything like Lavender." Harry snorted as he threw the wine damp cloth at him. It smacked against Ron's leg and flopped to the floor as the redhead stuck his finger into the jam and scooped out a large dollop that he promptly sucked off - completely ignoring the attacking hand towel.  


"True, lack of massive breasts for one, but if he ever starts calling you Harr-Harr, you better start running for the hills. And watch his eyes, the crazy always starts in the eyes." Throwing the two pieces of hot toast onto a plate, Ron tucked the jar of jam and tub of cream cheese under his elbow and slid back onto his chair. "In all seriousness though mate, and I'm only going to say this once and don't repeat it alright?" He fixed Harry with a one eyed glare, the dripping, sticky knife jabbing towards him in emphasis. "Draco's a damn fucking idiot if he doesn't choose you and while I've always thought he was more than a little bit addled in the head, I have a feeling that trend of crazy in him might just actually be for the best where you two are concerned."  


"Meaning what exactly?" Harry peeked up at his friend, watching as the other man lathered the piece of toast with a layer of jam over the uneven spread of cream cheese beneath it.  


"Meaning, you know how hard it is to pry one of those useless muggle things from his hands once he's gotten ahold of them, yeah?" Ron asked, slapping the sticky toast down on the table before Harry as the darker man nodded. "Well...look at it like this Harry, anything Draco goes round the bend for, there's no stopping him, he's addicted and you my friend are like the ultimate addiction."  


"Are you comparing me to an electric tin opener?" Harry quipped, his eyes wide and his chest squeezing in hope despite Ron's rather odd explanation as his brain automatically ticked back to Draco's last useless purchase - the stupid tin opener that he'd try to convince Harry was life changing but only ended up causing a physical meltdown in the kitchen. He'd had seen the tin in the rubbish afterwards, melted and twisted, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out how Draco had even managed to do that with the innocent thing - but then again the blonde did have an uncanny tendency of well-meaning destruction.  


"What?" Ron furrowed his brow and shook his head before stuffing a large bite into his mouth. "Yeah, sure, why not. You're a tin opener and Draco just can't help but open tins no matter how much his mum wants him not to."  


"This is a weird analogy."  


"Give me a break. This is Hermione's usual thing not mine." He grumbled, shoving another bite in his mouth as he swallowed the first, his head cocking in thought as he chewed. "Alright, alright, forget the tin opener. But you two fucked yeah? Well, just one taste is all it usually takes right?"  


"If you're listening to teen anti-drinking propaganda." Harry rebutted, his cheek twitching with the effort to keep from grinning.  


"Gah, you're purposely making this hard on me aren't you? You sick little bastard. Okay last time. You. Draco. Are both nuts. And Pansy and his mum should just rip up that contract before either of you do something stupid because I don't care how weird it is, you're a tin opener and Draco needs his tins!"  


Harry stared at his friend, his words sinking into his heart and taking root despite the oddness of the wording. He felt it warm his insides, felt it spread through his limbs, and a sloppy smile was creeping onto his lips as he opened his mouth to answer (or maybe further needle) his friend but before he could, he heard a soft voice clearing behind them followed by a little chuckle.  


"That's really sweet Ron." Hermione was grinning, her arms hugging a thick, leather bound volume to her chest that looked simply ancient and like her touch could make it fall apart at any moment - her hair falling limp from her ponytail and what looked like a smear of dust marring her cheekbone.  


"No need to sound so surprised love." Ron grinned, his thumb catching a drop of jam on the corner of his mouth and swiping it away.  


"He called me a tin opener, how is that sweet exactly?" Harry twisted to look back up at her as the thick book thunked down onto the table.

  
"Don't be obtuse Harry." Hermione muttered as she slid onto the chair at the head of the table.  


"Obtuse...right...is this something you guys do? Call each other different appliances as foreplay, like some sort of weird code when Hugo is awake? You know what, don't tell me actually, I think I can live without knowing the truth." Harry tugged his empty glass towards him and tipped the bottle on its side, watching as the blood red wine poured out and filled his cup half full - something about having Hermione sitting beside him making him feel oddly self-conscious about drinking straight from the bottle.  


"Trust me Harry, we have an entirely different kind of code." Ron snickered with a heavy handed wink in Hermione's direction, but she wasn't looking at him, her hand splaying gently across the old leather, her thumb brushing over the yellow pages encased within it. Caressing thoughtfully. "So. What's with the book Mione?"  


"I've narrowed it down." She announced.  


Harry blinked and Ron lifted his shoulder in a one sided shrug as he caught his eye.  


"Er...great!" Ron grinned, the butter knife digging back into the strawberry jam before abandoning his obvious plan of eating it straight from the jar and grasping his glass of wine instead. "Narrowed what down exactly?"  


"The marriage contract." She answered like it should have been obvious, like they should have just known that was what she had disappeared to do...though really, they probably should have. "From what you've told me Harry, I think it has to be one of three possibilities."  


"Three?" Harry repeated, sitting up a little straighter at the mention of the contract, his eyes blinking quickly to try and roll the fog away from his brain so he wouldn't miss a single thing. "You mean, there's different kinds?"  


"Dozens actually, ranging from simple statements of intent, to binding families together before their children are even old enough to take their vows, to contracts that act as the strictest of bonds where the only way to be released from it one or both members of the intended involved has to die."  


"Die?" Ron repeated, looking a little green as he slumped onto his elbows on the table. "Tell me the Malfoy's didn't actually have him sign something that -"  


"Archaic?" Hermione finished for him.  


"I was going to say cocked up actually."  


"That's not possible." Harry heard himself say quietly, cutting off his friends from further discussing the appropriate adjective, his fingers going unbearably tight on his glass, his knuckles whitening with a rush of blood ringing in his ears. "Right? Hermione? He didn't...Pansy said...you can't just stop your explanation there!"  


"No, oh Harry, no. I can't image that he did." Hermione rushed to answer, leaning over the table and draping her arms almost possessively around the book - her brown eyes large and pleading for him to understand. "I didn't mean to imply...I'm sure he didn't."  


"Then next time start with that yeah?" He shut his eyes tight and battled against the headache threatening to start hammering against his skull at any moment. "Is there only hope it’s the first one? A statement of intent should be easily broken right?"  


Nibbling on her bottom lip, Hermione cocked her head and twisted a length of hair at the nape of her neck around her finger. "I doubt it. I'm thinking it’s a bit more complex. Think of the contract like laying the foundation for a house, it lays down their intent, their ideas, their promises, and at each point there are spells woven around it, holding it together and binding the participants in a loose bond that gets its final knot during the marriage ceremony."  


_Goddman fucking fuck_. Draco had told him it wasn't simple, that it wasn't as easy as Pansy agreeing to dissolve it but until this moment Harry had held to the hope that maybe...maybe, it _was_ that easy, that somehow just wanting it enough would be all it took.  


"Layman's terms love." Ron interrupted, his gaze sliding from Harry's slightly panicked, confused expression and over to his wife. "Before you accidentally explode Harry's brain from worry and confusion."  


Snapping out of the dazed look that had crept across her eyes, Hermione straightened and cleared her throat. "It _can_ be undone Harry. It just won't be easy given both parties involved have to agree on every point, and well..."  


"Well, what?" Harry gritted out when she didn't continue, his heart having stopped in his chest with his hand curling into a fist on his lap. Oh god, he was about to fall back down that slope of shattering heartbreak again wasn't he? Fuck, how many times could he survive the fall before he couldn't make the climb back up again?  


"Well, if the Malfoy's used the contract that seems most logical for their situation then it wasn't just Draco and Pansy that had to sign off on it." She paused and glanced quickly at Ron before settling her eyes on Harry, her voice dropping into a gentle tone that made him feel like a small child about to be told a terrible truth. "His parents most likely were involved with it too and in that case, well...then they would have to agree to break the contract as well for it to be fully dissolved."  


"His parents? You mean, his mum has to agree to it? But she's..." Sick. Wilting away and clinging desperately to her delirious delusion that Draco settled and married with a child will fix everything.  


_Fuck_ , Draco had been deadly serious. It wasn't going to be easy, not by a long shot, his future - their future - all balanced on Narcissa and all Harry could do was pray that he had been right too. That her son's happiness would outweigh her own ill placed plans.  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
Harry's sneakers, soaking wet from the unexpected downpour he had been caught in, squeaked to a stop on the squared, off-white tiles at the end of a long aisle displaying countless kitchen utensils and appliances in neat little rows. His fingers tightened around the box in his hands, pressing the edge of it into his stomach, as he blinked his eyes and opened his mouth on a greeting that refused to come.  


Draco stood halfway down the aisle, a smaller box in his hand, his head bent, his brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the wording on the side. He was wearing a perfectly fitted pair of jeans, acid washed and artfully threadbare at the knees, black boots that caused the cuff to hang just a tad bit unevenly, and a distressed leather jacket over a simple tee shirt that was deep green and worn around the neckline from fingers constantly tugging on it.

  
He swallowed as Draco turned the box around in his hands, Harry's eyes unable to move away from the shirt - _Harry's_ shirt. He hadn't seen or heard from Draco in exactly four days but somehow the man had managed to pilfer his shirt without him knowing - like it was something as simple as laundry day and he needed something to wear while Harry fixed the washer. God, how many times had that happened in the past? How often did he tell himself not to put any stock into Draco wearing his clothes, not to look too closely, not to let it make his pulse jump? How many excuses had Draco made when Harry found him like that? How many had he fallen for and not let himself ever believe there was something more behind it?  


Seeing Draco in his clothes always made him feel flustered, made him feel uneven and like he'd missed the bottom step on the stairs and he couldn't help but wonder if Draco knew. If he knew what it did to him, if he could see it in his face even though Harry had always tried to hide it with every ounce of his will. Yet even now it made his stomach flutter and hands sweat, nerves assaulting him as he took a determined step forward, because this felt even more telling than the photograph and Harry needed to grasp onto any thread he possibly could to keep himself tethered together.  


"Hi Draco." He cleared his throat, his voice small and scratchy, a smile plastered on his face and a small nagging thought in the back of his mind that made him wish he had actually put some sort of effort into his appearance. But he hadn't thought that he'd be running into his not-exactly-flatmate-anymore on his after work errands. If he had, he would have combed his hair (which the rain would have ruined anyway), he wouldn't have thrown on the first slouchy, wrinkled shirt his hand had come across on his bedroom floor nor would he have tugged on the ragged jeans that while holey and threadbare like Draco's were not in any way stylish and alluring (not that Draco hadn't seen him in much worse states before).  


Draco startled, his hand dropping the box he had been examining down to his side as he glanced up and met Harry's eye. "Harry." A muscle in his jaw twitched, his eyes (wide and tired with dragging purple underneath) darting down the aisle behind Harry before focusing on him. "It's good to see you."  


"You too." Harry nodded, the smile feeling heavy and stuck on his face, the cardboard box indenting from the press of his fingers - Merlin the man looked so tired. Depleted. "Where, um, where have you been staying?"  


"Theo's still. He lacks all things muggle though, not even a telly." He drawled, his hand waving in a semi-circle in the air with a thoughtless flick of his wrist. "And the kitchen is abysmal."  


"Hence the kitchen appliance section." Harry added lamely but Draco's lips twitched into a small, almost nonexistent smile as his gaze flickered to all the things taking up the shelves and walls around them.  


"Precisely. Thought I'd start him out small, ease him into it..." Draco murmured, halfheartedly lifting the box until Harry got his first good look at what it was.  


A grin broke out across Harry's face, erasing the painful facade of one that had glued itself onto his lips as he tipped forward and rocked back on his feet. It was silly, it meant nothing, but still the coincidence was more than enough to make something spark in Harry's desperate mind and aching heart. He'd been barely able to concentrate on anything all week, he wasn't eating as well as he knew he should be, he had been drowning himself in work to try and keep his mind away from his empty flat that, and he may have (once or twice) slept in Draco's bed, surrounded by his blankets that felt stiff and lonely without the man himself.  


He was barely holding it together no matter how much he told himself that it would be okay and each day that Draco didn't come home or owl he felt himself losing a little bit more hope that he ever would be again. But this...fuck this, no matter how ridiculous or unimportant it really was, was like coming up for a breath of air when he'd felt like he'd been underwater for too long.  


"An electric tin opener?" He laughed, a portion of the tension leaving his muscles as Draco peered down at it quizzically before glancing back up at Harry.  


"Yes. What's so funny?"  


"Nothing. Really, it's nothing." Harry couldn't stop grinning, Draco's obvious confusion over his reaction only adding to the lightness spreading through him. Merlin, Ron would burst out in hysterical laughter if he could see them - Draco wearing his shirt and holding an electric tin opener, looking at Harry like he'd gone a tad mental. "It's just...Ron called me your tin opener."  


"Ah..." He furrowed his brow, his head cocking thoughtfully. "I don't follow."  


"Forget it." Harry shifted his box under one arm and pushed his damp curls off his forehead. "Thought you decided that thing was useless though."  


"Yes well, I changed my mind."  


"And you need your tins opened." The words left his lips before he could stop them, Harry's grin making him squint as he somehow found himself one step closer to the blonde in the next instant.  


Draco opened his mouth and shut it, his eyes narrowing. "Potter, you're leering at me, have you hit your head? Finally taken one too many hexes to the brain?"  


Harry shook his head and tried to quell his manic expression. "No, sorry, I'm just really happy...about your decision. To give the tin opener another chance, that is."  


"Okay." Draco said slowly, looking at him like he was worried he had lost his marbles and Harry couldn't really blame him, he was a little worried he had too to be honest. "What are you doing here? If I recall correctly you said we had absolutely no need for more appliances."  


"That was before Ron broke the toaster." Jerking his chin down to indicate the box under his arm, Harry watched as Draco's eyes dropped to it with that glint in his eye that he always got around appliances and the promise of acquiring a new one.  


"He broke our toaster?" Draco repeated, sounding clearly annoyed and reminding Harry that the toaster had been Draco's first muggle kitchen appliance he had ever purchased for their flat. He had been positively grinning with glee and nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he'd plugged it in his first time and proceeded to burn an entire bag of bread in the process of learning how to work it.  


Harry nodded, biting his lip against latching onto the use of the word _our_. "Yeah he got a little overzealous making toast."  


Nodding in a way that seemed more than a little absentminded, Draco tipped his head and read over the box in Harry's possession one more time. "Wait, is that the same model as our old one?"  


"Erm, yeah."  


"Why would you get the same one?" Draco asked, his nose wrinkling in complete confusion.  


Harry blinked. "Because I liked it the first go round." He said carefully, already knowing as the words left his tongue that it wasn't going to be a good enough justification in the other man's eyes.  


"Yes, but...honestly Potter, come on." Grabbing Harry's free hand, Draco tugged, spinning him abruptly back around and marching him down the aisles until they came to the toaster section - Harry's palm tingling and heart stuttering from the simple contact.  


"New is not always better." Harry pointed out, his eyes darting down to were Draco still held his hand as the blonde scanned the shelving before them.  


"Obviously. But in this case it is, now put that back." He instructed, nodding jerkily at the box under Harry's arm without looking at him as he placed the electric tin opener atop one of the toasters on display.  


Nudging it back onto the shelf one handed was more difficult than Harry would have thought, and he ended up having to do an awkward openhanded push and shove with his hip to keep it from tumbling to the floor and slide it back into its recently vacated spot. But Draco didn't seem to notice, or chose to ignore, Harry's silent struggle - his gray eyes tracking back and forth with an overly contemplative expression on his pale face. "I don't want anything fancy Draco."  


"Course not." Draco murmured in that placating sort of tone he always adopted when he deemed Harry's knowledge and feedback of little consequence.  


"Or complicated. I don't want to have to spend an hour trying to figure out how to toast a simple piece of bread."  


"Mhmm."  


"Are you listening to me?"  


"Intently."  


"You're not." Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to sound annoyed but finding it rather difficult to actually gather up too much indignation over the fact that he was going to no doubt be saddled with a ridiculous new appliance. Because Draco was here, holding his hand, and acting very much like this new toaster would be _theirs_ , just like the old one had been.  


"Black or red?" Draco murmured, Harry's eyes jumping from trying to inconspicuously stare at Draco's face and over to the shelving, his gaze moving quickly to try and figure out which color choice would make for the least over the top one.  


"What's wrong with white?" He asked, after realizing that all the colored ones were much too...well, _much_.  


"It's monotonous."  


"One could argue that its classic."  


"It's dull Harry. Now this one," Draco straightened fully and jabbed his finger at one of the toasters on the top shelf. "This one is perfect."  


Cocking his head, Harry inched closer to examine the model Draco had indicated. "It has six slots. When they hell will we ever need to use six slots?"  


Draco tipped his head and considered for a moment before smirking at him from the corner of his eye. "Brunch parties?"  


"We don't have brunch parties."  


"But we could with this!" Draco grinned, his slim finger pressing down on one of the levers and releasing it with a bouncing snap. "You could make everyone those...what do you call them? The thing with the egg in the middle...?"  


"Egg in a basket."  


"Right, egg in a basket, and I can mix mimosas and bloody mary's." Draco released the second lever, the springing snap of it ringing quietly in the sudden silence as he turned his head to look at Harry, his infectious grin freezing on his face before thawing on the corners.  


Harry felt like he could feel the thoughts tumbling down from their giddy high in Draco's head as the man inhaled long and slow before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and glancing away. He knew what he was thinking, knew that upon turning to look at Harry, Draco had remembered that the flat wasn't really _theirs_ at the moment, that they weren't in any position to be planning hypothetical brunch parties. The man's hands that were a contraindication of rough and soft from hours cutting and stirring and hovering over steam pulling lifelessly from Harry's and slipping into his pocket.  


"Sounds nice." Harry murmured, bitterly missing the contact the moment it was gone and wishing that every moment they shared wasn't tainted by this dark cloud hanging over their heads.  


Draco nodded and pointed at the toaster below the one he'd wanted. "This one would be acceptable too." He said quietly and Harry felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach as he took in the simple two slotted appliance that lacked all the bells and whistles that Draco adored.  


Reaching forward Harry carefully dragged the surprisingly heavy, ridiculously fancy, and over complicated six-slotted toaster from the shelf, the box digging into his palms and stomach. "I think I'll take my chances with this one." He smiled, lopsided and hopeful at the questioning look Draco shot him.  


Nodding, Draco grabbed his tin opener and started wordlessly back down the aisle with Harry by his side. They didn't say anything as they paid for their purchase, a corner of his eye on Draco who was fiddling mindlessly with a roll of packing tape next to the checkout counter. The rain had stopped and had left behind a foggy haze to the biting cold as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the little bag in Draco's hand swinging by his side.  


Throat squeezing, Harry bit into the side of his cheek, a desperate pull beneath his navel trying to get him to do something, to not let them part like this. "Draco, I was wondering..." Harry started softly, his fingers fidgeting with his purchase.  


Draco stopped and turned, his eyebrow quipped in silent inquiry, his hand tight on the handle of his bag.

 

"Hermione did some research, about the marriage contract..." He swallowed and caught the man's gray gaze, holding it steady as he let the question trail off.  


"Shocking." Draco smirked but Harry saw the flicker of unease roll through his eyes despite the flippant response.  


"She said that your mum has to agree." Harry pressed forward, his voice quiet but stronger than he thought he was capable of managing in the moment. "That she has to sign off on dissolving it...is it...is that true?"  


Draco hesitated, his gaze boring into Harry's before he looked back down at his feet and nodded slowly.  


"And..." Harry paused, his stomach plummeting into his soppy sneakers at the tiny gesture, and swallowed hard. "Will she?"  


Draco slid his eyes shut for a moment and when he looked back up at Harry the darker man felt like he was staring into a storm that he couldn't see through, but there was something written there, something important, but it was whipping around too fast, it was too obscured - he couldn't catch onto it and it left him feeling lightheaded and like he was trembling in his own skin, rattling around inside his bones.  


"That's the question isn't it? I'm trying but it's rather slow going..." Draco blinked and the storm was gone, replaced with an eerie calmness, a false sense of serene detach, with a small smile that seemed to appear almost defiantly against his smooth as wax expression. "Will I," he paused and cleared his throat, "will I see you at Pansy's?"

 

"What?" Harry asked, the unexpected question startling him with his thoughts still spinning around the man's answer. Because Draco was _trying_ and even more importantly than that he said it was _slow going_ \- which alluded to progress and no matter how small it may be, progress was still progress, and then there was that smile. Small and almost hesitant, Merlin Draco was rarely hesitant and there was something about seeing it now that made it so Harry couldn't help but feel it squeeze itself into his heart with a spreading of warmth.  


"On Saturday? For her costume party?" Draco clarified, looking back up at him with a determination sparking in his eyes.  


"Oh, right." Harry nodded, having completely forgotten about the party the black haired woman was throwing. "I hadn't really thought about it."  


"Well, perhaps you should." He said gently but clearly and then he was leaning forward, his lips pressing against Harry's temple, the touch a lingering caress for one, two heartbeats before his lips fell down to press gently against his scruffy cheek. They stood still for a moment, Draco's kiss tingling all the way down to his toes as he listened to the blondes quiet breathing before Draco was taking a step back.  


"Okay." Harry heard himself whisper, breathless and flushed with his body wanting to follow right into Draco's embrace.

 

"Okay then, I'll see you." Draco said softly and that was it - a gentle smile, a head tilted in his direction, a moment of brief intense eye contact, and then he was walking away - leaving Harry for what felt like the hundredth time without a speck of air.

 


	14. Playing Bond (By Standing Back and Fidgeting)

  
  


The hum of the engine quieted as Harry jammed the car into park and switched off the ignition, his hands tight on the steering wheel and his leg bouncing in time with the ball of nervous anticipation rolling around inside his stomach. 

  
It was fully dark outside already, the streetlamps dotting the sidewalk casting everything in a hazy yellow light and the air was heavy with the looming promise of rain - threatening to open up and drench him the moment he opened his door. With a deep breath he squinted through the windshield, trying to make out the figures on the walk beside him and slowly bringing into focus the familiar faces mixed with ones he thought he should probably remember but didn't - the group laughing and chatting as they headed into the happy yellow house with warmth spilling from its front door.

  
He was late but apparently not the latest - or wouldn't be in any rate if he'd just get out of the car already.

  
Dragging a hand through his hair unconsciously, Harry flicked the visor down and gave himself a quick once over as well as he could in the small concave mirror that seemed to be perpetually foggy. His hand dropped from his curls to smooth down the heather gray three piece suit that fell against him fluidly, perfectly - crafted to fit him like a glove and no doubt getting horribly wrinkled from the drive and subsequent stalling. He fingered the tie at his throat, looped and knotted as artfully and carefully as he could but he knew it wasn't quite good enough, that there was a flaw in it that James Bond would never have stood for. 

  
But he supposed the knotted tie could be overlooked, forgiven even, if it wasn't for his hair. It stuck up everywhere in every which direction (a fact made worse by his mindless, fidgeting fingers), raven black and horribly defiant despite the hours he'd put into trying to style it, to tame it, to make it resemble _something_ like class. It was a dreadful topping to his pristine suit and scuff free, shining shoes that pinched his toes a little and made him regret not purchasing a new pair.   


The only small saving grace was that he had thankfully managed to wrangle a pair of contacts into his watering eyes a little while ago, the things feeling itchy and foreign but he _couldn't_ be Bond and wear spectacles - even he knew that. Still, it was highly odd staring back at himself without them, making him feel strangely naked. Exposed. His eyes too bright, his brows too dark, his cheek bones too stark.  


He looked...okay (his appearance made one hundred times worse in the dingy little mirror). He maybe looked like Bond after a massive scuffle, after having fought his way out of some embassy. But then again, no, the man always looked put together even after such escapades. Fuck, it was useless. He was an awful impersonation of the infamous 007, this is what he got for allowing Draco to pick out his costume. He glared at his reflection and tugged at his hair and then promptly jumped out of his skin at the sharp _tap tap_ that knocked against his window.  


"Shite." He cursed, smacking the mirror back against the ceiling and turning to look through the glass sheltering him from the cold to find Hermione smiling at him, her knuckle still raised and bent like she was getting ready to tap again if need be. He smiled and motioned for her to back up before pushing open his door and stepping out onto the sidewalk, his keys clinking against the tiny squirt gun he had shoved into his pocket before leaving the house as he slipped them in beside it. "Hey Mione."  


"Oh Harry, you look so handsome!" She beamed, a yellow dyed book resting inside the basket she carried over the bend of her elbow knocking into his side as she pulled him into a quick hug. Her hair that was combed neatly back and tied with a loving blue bow at the nape of her neck tickled his chin and her blue and white dress swished about her shins as she pulled back and started leading him up the walk with her hand falling from his after a quick tug.

 

"Thanks." Harry grinned, falling instep beside her as he did his best to shove down the knot of mixed emotions in his stomach but it seemed a futile endeavor, there was no way for him _not_ to be nervous - how could he be anything but considering he was about to attend a party (at Pansy's no less) and he honestly didn't know how he was supposed to stand around and chat with his friends, with _Pansy_ , and pretend that nothing had changed, that everything was alright. Especially if that circle of friends held Draco in their midst.

  
Draco who had stolen his heart and ran away with it. Draco who was trying. Draco who was making slow progress. Draco who wanted him to attend the party even when they seemed unable to figure out how to be around each other (stuttering sentences, followed by frantic snogging didn't seem like an acceptable activity in front of almost everyone they knew). Draco, whom he hadn't heard from again since their accidental run in at the shop but couldn't stop thinking about.

  
The entire time he had been getting ready he had kept thinking about how they had parted last. Picturing the determination on Draco's face and in the way he had marched down the puddle strewn sidewalk, reliving the light caressing kiss, hearing the muttered, " _alright then,_ " that had sounded as if it held a sliver of a promise that left Harry's heart beating quickly in his rib cage each time he thought on it. It was the memory of it that had kept him from sending the letter he had frantically composed earlier that week to Narcissa. Instead the letter, filled full of inky scrawls of Harry's admission of love and a plea for her to see their side of things, still sat with an unbroken crimson seal on his desk. 

  
He had been so close to sending it, his owl perched on his arm, the letter in his hand, but then he'd hear those two words again whisper through his head, see Draco's determination behind his eyelids, and it suddenly felt like cheating. Like sending the letter wasn't his place. That playing the hero like this would backfire, would rob that spark he'd seen light in Draco's step.

  
Draco was a force to be reckoned with when he put his heart and soul into something and perhaps that was all they needed, they just needed Draco to catch onto the storm inside him and let it loose. Though perhaps that didn't make any damn sense but then again, when did love ever make any sense anyway?

  
So it was the thought of Draco (strong, determined, standing in his old parlor with his sick mother) and the unending desire to see the other man that had led Harry to this moment - trudging down the walk in his costume, fidgeting in his own nerves, praying that he hadn't misread their last interaction, and that he hadn't made a huge mistake by not sending the letter.

  
He bit his lip and fingered the squirt gun in his pocket before clearing his throat and glancing back over at his friend, grateful to have her by his side as he entered the party, that if nothing else she gave him something else to think about for a moment. "Great costume by the way. Where's Ron? Is he the Beast?" He asked, eyeing her once more and deciding that she looked wonderful in a costume that Harry felt pretty much summed her up completely.  


Her smile flipped into one of slight exasperation. "He's dropping Hugo off and no, he kept complaining about all the hair. He's...well, he's..."  


"What?" Harry asked knocking his shoulder lightly into hers, his curiosity growing as she fiddled with the handle of the basket and scowled at the ground.  


"He's a rubber duck."  


Harry wrinkled his nose, his steps faltering, sure he heard her wrong. "He's a what?"  


"A rubber duck. He thinks it's funny, something to do with his dad, but I don't really understand the correlation. I mean honestly, if he wanted to go as something Arthur has been obsessed with at some point in his life he could have gone as _anything_ muggle. But no, he decided he must be a rubber duck. He looks utterly ridiculous." She sighed and smoothed her hand down her neatly pressed dress mournfully. "Don't know how we will possibly be able to dance."  


"Think you might have stumbled upon the reasoning." Harry laughed, holding the gate open for her as they stepped into the front garden, the noise from inside already humming with an excited electricity and making the knot tighten as Harry wondered if Draco was amongst all the chatter already.   


"Oh I will kill him." She grumbled, her eyes narrowing as the possibility ticked through her thoughts.  


"Well, do it after the party, yeah? I'm rather looking forward to seeing this costume of his." He sent her a wink before he took two quick steps and found himself pausing on the stoop, his eyes fixing on the yellow door. He was really starting to hate the color yellow.  


"Will he be here?" Hermione asked, her hand on his elbow, a light but steady touch.  


Harry shrugged. "I think so. Merlin, he better be."  


"Well, only one way to find out." She grinned at him and turned the knob, the door swinging open and revealing the room beyond filled with people in loud and muted costumes, some that made instant sense and sparked memories and others that left him feeling more confused than anything. "Ready Harry?" She asked, slipping her arm through his and at Harry's determined nod, they stepped over the threshold together.  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
Harry was pretty sure that Luna was supposed to be a muggle version of a witch. She wore a long crinkly black robe that fitted poorly and looked like it perhaps had been sold as a _one size fits all_ , with a large pointed black brimmed hat that stuck straight up like there was cardboard shoved inside, her face painted with exaggerated wrinkles and warts with crooked fake teeth making her voice slur and hard to understand. And in her hand she held a broom, but not an actual wizarding broom that you could fly, instead she had in her possession just an ordinary yellow, stiff bristled, corn broom that could only ever hope to sweep up dust and dirt.  


She looked weirdly adorable and horrifying at the same time, bringing back memories of sneaking glances of other children outside the window of number 4 Privet Drive when he was young and wishing desperately to be allowed to dress up in the flimsy costumes and fill a cheap plastic cauldron with treats.   


She had grinned widely around her protruding fake teeth when he'd told her that she looked utterly frightening, like it had been the most wonderful compliment that she could have ever hoped to receive.  


"My mum had a hat a bit like this, but purple and floppy." Seamus laughed, poking the top of Luna's pointy hat with something he had declared was his _Sonic Screwdriver_ earlier on when Harry had been caught staring incomprehensibly at it. "Wonder if this is what my dad thought witches looked like before he met my mam."  


"Your dad probably didn't believe in them before your mother." Hermione said matter of factually. "Most muggles don't."  


"There's a fair few who do." Luna slurred, blinking at Hermione in that uncanny way of hers.  


"Weirdo's that lot tend to be though don't they?" Seamus snickered, twirling the something-or-other-screwdriver and pressing a little button on the side until it flashed blue and buzzed at them.  


Harry frowned and tried to figure out why that little hunk of metal seemed slightly familiar. It nudged a pocket of a memory in his mind that he couldn't be sure was real or if perhaps it just reminded him of something Draco _would_ twirl between his fingers while chattering about something-or-other that Harry either had no reference of or was quietly keeping his lips shut from pointing out that Draco was getting it all wrong. It looked like something Harry would find the next day dismantled on their table and Harry knew without having to even think about it exactly how Draco would just shrugging without an explanation when asked about it.   


"Who tends to be weirdos?" Ron's voice rose around them and Harry turned his head just in time to catch sight of his best mate squeezing his way past a man dressed like some sort of super hero that Harry didn't know the name of and into their little circle in the corner of the large, crowded room.   


"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Seamus demanded, eyeing Ron suspiciously as Harry burst out laughing and Hermione rolled her eyes.   


"A rubber duck." Ron announced proudly, pulling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest, the action lost in the thick, voluminous amounts of yellow rubbery fabric encasing him from his knees up, encircling him around his middle and wrapping up around his head to make his red hair stick out in one big tuft on his forehead - his feet covered in large flippers that he'd painted orange in an attempt to impersonate webbed feet. "Quack, quack." He squeaked, bending his elbows and flapping his arms.  


He looked beyond ridiculous and Harry loved it.  


"You look brilliant!" Harry grinned with a laugh, his smile splitting wider as Ron looked at him and beamed.   


"You look absurd." Hermione grumbled, her fingers fidgeting once more with the handle of her basket, and her gaze sliding minutely to the few people dancing one room over.  


"Fantastic!" Seamus shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did so.  


"Why do you keep saying that?" Hermione snapped at the Irish man, clearly still annoyed with her husband and his choice of costume, but Ron was already slipping an arm awkwardly over her shoulders and she didn't move away. Didn't flinch. Didn't scowl. She just lent slightly into his side (a crunching sigh emitting from his costume) and shifted her weight off her left foot in a move that seemed wonderfully (in Harry's opinion anyway) unconscious.   


"If you don't know already, I'm not telling you." Seamus smirked smugly as he tugged on the sides of his black leather jacket that hung open over a purple tee shirt.   


"Right. And who are you?" Ron quipped an eyebrow, eyeing the other man up and down as Harry felt his gaze shift and wander over the crowd.   


Again. For the millionth time. His heart always beating in a steady drip, drip - like a rain drum, his lungs and chest scarce of breath and pounding in the spaces between the absence during those few brief seconds as he hoped that maybe, just maybe, this time he'd see him standing across the room. Blonde hair, gray eyes, dark suit, smiling. Merlin he needed to see Draco smiling at him in that secretive way that he always did when they were in crowds - smiling the sort of smile that made the rest of the room fall away around him like crumbled paper. But this time was no different than all the rest, the house was still infuriatingly Malfoy free.  


"You all need to watch more muggle television programs." Seamus grumbled, rubbing a hand over his once sandy blonde hair that he'd glamoured (dyed?) a dark brown, making him look slightly roguish and slightly too pale (and not in the good way that Harry had long ago started to associate with the word).  


"I think Draco watches enough for all of us." Luna said, dreamily swaying to the music he could hear drifting through the entire house.  


"He only watches films." Harry corrected. "He hates all the commercials breaking up programs. Says it's the muggles trying to brainwash each other."  


"He's right." Hermione nodded.  


"He's already brainwashed." Ron laughed, before quickly glancing over all of their heads and around the room before flicking his eyes to Harry, his gaze lit with a spark of uncertain curiosity. "Where is he anyway?" He asked cautiously, his tone giving away the fact that he wasn't sure he should be asking or not, but he was hardly the first to have done so that evening.   


Harry had lost track of how many times he'd been asked that since arriving over an hour ago, every single person who had greeted him following it up with curiosity over Draco's absence. They had all seemed so confused, blinking like they couldn't fathom Harry showing up alone, like they didn't know what to do with _just him_ without the blonde attached to his elbow anymore. His answer of " _I don't know_ ," had only seemed to baffle them more, a few narrowing their eyes like he was hiding something, like Draco not being there with him had to be because the blonde was off doing some big secret deed that they were suddenly dying to know about.  


Harry shrugged and glanced at his feet. "Not sure."  


"He's at his parents." Pansy said pointedly, her voice coming from nowhere and carrying into their circle as she appeared beside Seamus. She was dressed in a twirling white dress with a plunging neckline that did little to cover her pale skin and there was a curly, short blonde wig perched on her head that made her face look a little more pugish than usual.  


Harry didn't know who the hell she was supposed to be and the lack of an answer sent a little needling sensation tingling over his skin again – like he was missing an important part of himself. Because Draco would know. He would smirk at her and crack some joke and then when all eyes were turned for a moment he'd lean in and whisper in Harry's ear who she was dressed as. He spared a second to wonder exactly how long it had been since he'd stopped being solitary, independent. How long it had been since he'd gotten used to being the one with Draco even if he wasn't his.   


But he might be hers one day. He flinched at his own thoughts but the idea had already left his stomach sour and he had to swallow through a thick throat that felt quite suddenly scratchy. But he wasn't going to think about that (again), he was going to cling to his hope (always), and remember the spark of determination in Draco's eye.  


"He had some last minute details to see to." Pansy explained, her voice almost lost in Harry's turning thoughts.  


His gaze jerked up to hers, their eyes catching, and as Pansy tipped her head a fraction and smirked, Harry felt his pulse race. His opened his mouth, questions that he couldn't ask in the mixed company he was standing in pressing against his tongue as his damn palms began to sweat against his will.  


"He should be along any minute I'd assume." She said lightly, her red painted nails clicking against each other as she wound on arm around Seamus's shoulders - the man's cheeks pinking as his gaze darted down her neckline and back up to meet her mischievous eyes.  


"What sort of details?" Seamus asked Pansy's breasts as the woman grinned lewdly at him.   


"He was on his way here actually when he got an alarm about something that needed his attention at his shop." Theodor Nott interrupted whatever Pansy was about to say, his tall lanky body sliding up beside her out of nowhere like he'd just silently Apparated into their circle. "I had assumed he'd have been here by now."  


"His shop? Is everything okay?" Harry asked quickly, drawing Theo's dark eyes to his and wishing as soon as it happened that he hadn't spoken.   


The man's gaze burned into him and Harry swallowed convulsively from their quiet intensity, making him wonder if this was perhaps how Theo yelled at people - by just staring at them until they melted under the scrutiny and cloaked ferocity. It reminded Harry of a watch dog, growling under its breath, warning him to not step out of line. Merlin, Draco's friends could be fucking nuts and frankly rather scary.  


He still wasn't used to the Slytherin method of dealing with anger and retribution. He much preferred the Gryffindor method of handling things. You shout. You fight. You might get a little bruised. But the stakes are always clear and it was often over quickly. But with a Slytherin it could last ages, it could outlast Harry's memory of where it all even started, it could just sit and simmer and simmer until he woke up with all his belongings suddenly reduced to cinder and his hands and feet on backwards.  


Or at least that's what Theo's gaze promised him in that single moment that their eyes stayed locked together - and Harry hadn't even done anything to him, he'd only found himself tangled in an impossible mess with his friend and he couldn't help but wonder what Draco had said to make Theo look at him like he was now. Or maybe the blonde hadn't said anything, maybe it was the lack of the normally chatty man's voice, perhaps Draco had just been too quiet and Theo had formed his own thoughts and opinions on the matter.  


"That's an interesting choice of costume." Luna said airily as she studied Theo's woolen robes in a rich green that bordered on black, the buttons done up to the hallow of his throat and the smallest peek of shirt cuffs in a lighter shade of green sticking out at his wrists - it was an outfit that Harry had seen on him countless times.  


"Yeah, who are you dressed as anyway?" Seamus asked, leaning into Pansy and squishing into her side as he peered around at the newcomer.  


Theo slid his eyes from Harry's and over to Seamus, his lips thinning.  


"Man you're a mouthy one aren't you?" Seamus furrowed his brow as Pansy snickered.  


Theo blinked.  


"Theo doesn't believe in wearing costumes." Pansy clarified.  


"Course he doesn't." Ron snorted, Hermione elbowing him discreetly in the side as he did so.  


"Manners Weasley." Pansy clicked, her back straightening as she tipped her head to the side like she was listening to some sound only she could hear before flicking her gaze back over to Harry who felt like he couldn't decide if he was happy that there were two good reasons that Draco wasn't at the party or bitterly disappointed with the prospect that he might not be showing up all.  


Perhaps he should just slip out the back and pop over to Draco's shop and check in, make sure he was okay...  


"Come on Potter, it looks like you could use another drink." Pansy announced and Harry felt himself stumble forward as the woman grabbed his wrist and pulled, dragging him unexpectedly after her and through the crowd with Seamus trailing behind them after announcing that he was in need of another one as well.   


"Erm, isn't your kitchen that way?" Harry asked, whipping his head back around as they passed the opening to the room where he could see countless bottles of various shapes and sizes and plates of neat little finger foods filling up a grand table.  


"We aren't going to the kitchen." She replied, smiling at a woman with bright pink hair and an electric blue dress as they passed.  


"We're not?" Seamus glanced at Harry with a confused look like he expected him to somehow have the answer of how they were going to procure a new round of drinks without entering the room that held them. "So...where are we going then?"  


"My private floo upstairs just flared." She announced, her head turning just slightly so Harry could see the sharp outline of the side of her face and the blatant smirk she wore on it.   


"Right." Seamus muttered, still looking abundantly confused as Harry kept his gaze on the back of Pansy's head and felt his stomach twist as his mind spun with _who_ most likely had just swept into the house. "And does this new person that we're heading to have an armful of beer?"  


Pansy stopped and turned to them, her fingers reaching out to brush along Seamus's cheek with a snicker. "You're cute but rather thick at times dear."  


Seamus's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth like he was about to debate the merits of her statement but a second later he was closing his lips around a smile instead - apparently deciding that _cute_ was an acceptable alternative to being seen as bright.  


Harry couldn't help but chuckle a little at the look on his friends face - the slightly slack, slightly pink, slightly lewd expression made him look like a sheepish boy about to get his first kiss - and it was just as Pansy was turning back away from them that a swirl of black caught the corner of Harry's eye. He felt his breath catch in his chest, the drum with the rain drops pattering inside his ribcage rising in intensity like the sky had just opened up in a downpour, sucking out all the still silent moments and filling him up with a whipping whirlwind as he lifted his gaze and saw him.

  
Staircases were made for Draco Malfoy. Or he was made for them. But the distinction didn't really matter, what did was the fact that Draco was standing in the middle of the staircase, his hand clenched around the cheery wood railing, a calm intensity rising off him that Harry knew was responsible for the whirlwind in his head and heart. It crackled in his ears, it hummed in his blood, it made him want to run forward and fix his mouth to the hard line of Draco's lips.

  
Draco looked like he had been at his mother’s, but even more than that he looked like a Potions Master. He was dressed in a thick black robe that had a singed hole on his shoulder and a stain that looked like dried blood against the dark material but was too thick to be so as it dripped in a long bubbling rivet down the collar and over his chest - the congealed red gathered in a patch on his pale skin right under his jaw and thus making him look that he had cut his throat. The ruined robe was hanging open in a disheveled, thoughtless manner over his black suit, with his shirt hastily tucked into his trousers and his vest missing a button in the middle. Draco never missed buttons and he never tucked anything hastily.

  
He looked like the flipped side of a mirror in a fun house - holding Draco's face and stature but none of his pristine aesthetics.  


Which meant something had gone horribly wrong at his mothers or at his shop. Or both. Merlin Harry prayed it was just his shop...  


"Ah, there he is."   


Pansy's voice sounded far away as Harry nudged past her and towards the staircase just as Draco's feet started thumping down the last remaining steps, his gray eyes narrowing and jaw tensing as he shoved past a group of people between them. The anger in that gaze stopped Harry in his tracks, his throat closing up, his eyes tracking back up and down the blondes ruined appearance, trying to piece together what the man had gone through.  


"Draco-"  


"Give him a chance, you said." Draco snapped, stopping before him and glaring, his words shocking over Harry in confusion. "He's just nervous, you said. Well fuck that Potter. He's an incompetent imbecilic who almost just destroyed my entire business!"  


Oh. Right. Draco's apprentice. Harry swallowed and forced a small, nervous smile, a tiny ray of inappropriate joy lighting in the back of his mind that perhaps things had only gone south at the man's shop. "I take it Stephen messed something up again?"  


"Messed something up?" Draco growled, nearing until he was almost standing on Harry's toes - anger washing off him in a heat wave, his pupils dark and eyes wide. "I gave him one potion to brew this week. Just one! And what does he do? He forgets that he needs to come in over the weekend to stir it and add the doxy venom. Do you know what happens when utter simpletons with a death wish don't stir their potions and add the right ingredients at the right time? Do you Potter?"  


"Umm." Harry gulped as the smell of burnt fabric and the sharp tang of whatever had splashed onto Draco's skin and clothes accosted him. He looked a mess, he looked murderous, and Harry was pretty certain that that shouldn't have made his heart stutter like it was. "Something bad?"  


Draco's face darkened, his lips thinned, and eyes narrowed to slits. "To put it mildly." He sneered and Harry desperately wanted to press his thumb into the smoking hole on Draco's shoulder and tangle his fingers through the gap the missing button had left on his chest.  


_It was Draco's shop_. That's what had kept him, that's what was causing the anger, and if there was room in Draco's head for him to be snarling at Harry, then maybe that meant that things at his mother's had gone good (god he hoped).   


"Well Harry didn't botch your potion, so I don't see why you're taking it out on him." Pansy said, snapping the stupor Harry had stumbled into upon seeing Draco again and reminding him that they were so very, very far from being alone.  


Draco's gaze jerked over to her and Harry and Seamus watched quietly as they glared silently at each other for a beat too long.  


"What the fuck is going on now?" Seamus whispered to him.  


"No idea." Harry muttered quietly, even though he hoped that he actually had the right idea – his voice trailing off as Draco sucked in a stiff breath through his nose and swung his attention back to Harry as he pushed his hand roughly into the pocket of his robes and pulled something out from within the folds.   


"Sign this." Draco demanded as he flicked open a roll of parchment and held it out to Pansy as he continued to stare Harry down - pinning him beneath his gaze as the black haired man tried to figure out what had just shifted because wasn't he in the middle of a tongue lashing from his flatmate? Those didn't typically end in such an abrupt and startling manner - Draco was much too fond of waxing melodramatically when the chance permitted.  


Not that he was complaining, because the man's stare felt like he was flaying him open, stripping him down, and heating him up inside and out. He desperately wanted to open his mouth and ask (demand) answers, but all he could seem to manage was to pry his sticky tongue off the roof of his mouth and part his lips with no sound escaping. The rain, the whirlwind inside him had drowned back down and now all that was left was this - Draco, filling him up with his gaze, leaving him wondering and sure of the answer at the same time.  


_Goddamned fucking fuck_.  


"I don't have a quill on my person dear." Pansy muttered as she pinched the end of the parchment and quickly scanned over the tightly packed words.  


"You don't need one." Draco informed her.  


"Ah, I see. And this will take care of everything?" She asked as Harry shifted his gaze in a move that felt extraordinarily difficult and like he was prying his eyes from the sun and glanced at her from the corner of his vision as Draco nodded. She didn't even pause before she was pulling her wand from beneath her dress and proceeded to prick her finger - his eye widening as she pressed her bleeding thumb to the parchment. "Anything else?" She asked, slipping her wand back up her dress as Draco flicked his wrist and vanished the roll of parchment, a million questions pressing against Harry's throat as he glanced back at Draco to find the man still staring intensely at him as he shook his head. "Well in that case, it was fun while it lasted, but good riddance I must say with all things considered."  


"Right...what was that about?" Seamus asked confusedly.  


"Nothing now." Pansy answered and Harry felt his heart pushing up his throat, pressing his questions to the back of his mouth, to the tip of his tongue, his head spinning - hope and the beginnings of earth tilting joy ballooning all through him. He opened his mouth wider, sure the words were going to actually come out this time, but Draco tipped his head and smirked and they all feel soundless into the pit of his stomach again.   


It was rather infuriating that Draco had this sort of power over him - reducing him (chaser and catcher of dark witches and wizards) to this.  


"Nothing indeed." Draco said softly and Harry felt his knees buckle as the man’s hand, now free of the parchment Harry really wanted to know the particulars of, reached out and grasped the back of his neck - hauling him forward as Draco bent and pushed his lips roughly against his.   


The sharp scent of smoke and sour potion was even more intense as Harry's body was pulled and pinned against Draco's long frame, his lips open on a gasp from the moment the man's pale fingers had touched the skin on the back of his neck, the kiss nothing but overwhelming from the very first contact. Like nothing was holding Draco back now and he was determined to make up for everything in this one single embrace. Harry let out what sounded horribly like a whimper as he pressed nearer, his hands winding up under Draco's arms and curling desperately into the fabric of his robe on his shoulder blades - the fact that they were standing in the middle of a crowd nothing but an inconsequential speck in the distance.   


Because Draco was kissing him. Kissing him. Kissing him. Fucking hell, he couldn't even think beyond it, couldn't connect the fuzzy sounds in his ears, could only taste and feel and _goddamned fucking fuck_ \- Draco was kissing him like was driving a staking claim, his heart pounding thick in time to Harry’s.  


"What the hell?" Seamus muttered as Harry felt Draco's thumb brush over the ridge of his ear and into his hair, like he was tracing the hooks of his glasses even though they weren't perched on his nose.   


"Oh really Seamus, you really are quite thick aren't you?" Pansy grumbled, Harry stumbling back onto one heel as Draco pushed against him, pulling on Harry's neck with the fingers of his other hand tangling in his disastrous hair that Harry suddenly didn't care one wit about not looking like Bonds.   


Bond's hair was too neat anyway, there wouldn't be any curls or knots for Draco's fingers to get caught on, there wouldn't be any pull, nothing to tangle and lock them together like they were now - and it felt to Harry like Draco was trying to tie them together, winding and looping and trapping and god he was dizzy.  


"Now let’s get that drink, I really don't feel like watching this again."  


"Again?" Seamus choked.  


Draco pulled back with a growl, leaving Harry's lips tingling and his head hazy and his body singing and screaming for more. "Kindly shut the fuck up." The blonde snapped, lips wet and red and well on their way to swelling.  


"You're at a party dear, if you want to rip his clothes off, please take it elsewhere." Pansy snapped back at him, Harry's cheeks pinking not so much from the thought of anyone hearing her words or witnessing their rather frantic kissing but from the thump in his blood that demanded Draco follow through with her suggestion. Right that second.  


"Wait." Seamus's eyes caught Harry's in question and he felt his cheeks heat further - alright, so maybe Pansy had a point. "Are you two together?"  


"Obviously." Draco grumbled and Harry felt a stupid smile split across his face.  


"Yeah?" He asked quietly, nuzzling into the side of Draco's face and ignoring the taste of potion on his skin and the split second confused grimace he could see on Seamus's face - his arms winding around Draco's shoulders and pulling even though they could barely get any closer than they already were. "No more contract?"  


"Well I don't just prick my fingers for fun Potter." Pansy muttered exasperatedly.  


"Seriously Pansy, shut up." Draco glared at her and Harry tried to keep himself from screaming out loud in happiness, his lips pressing against Draco's jaw, his chin, his neck, the corner of his lips to keep himself from drawing even more attention to them. But he couldn't stop and he didn't really care who saw because the contract was dissolved, it was gone.  


And Draco was his.  


"Seriously Draco, get out or let go of him."   


"Fine." Draco muttered, his thumb brushing down Harry's cheek, his gray eyes - no longer burning in anger over his apprentice - catching on Harry's and stealing what was left of his air. "You drove?" He asked and Harry had to blink several times before the question settled into actual words and meaning inside his head.   


"Yeah." He nodded. "Why?"  


The smirk that broke out across Draco's face felt wholly predatory and Harry knees buckled all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI!!!! Oh my gosh it's been ages, I"M SO SORRY!!!! Where have I been you ask? What happened you ask? Well basically my computer crashed awhile back and I lost this story and two one shots I had written and hadn't posted yet AND several chapters for the next story I was working on. Needless to say that propelled me into a funk, like a massive, crazy, sit down at my new computer and completely unable to rewrite these last few damn chapters funk. It was horrible and I'm terribly sorry for keeping you all waiting (fingers crossed I haven't lost all my lovely readers).
> 
> But now I have learned my lesson, get a Cloud TommyLane. You know the massive thing that boggles my mind and saves everything on the internet. WHY OH WHY DIDN"T I GET ONE AGES AGO?? BAH!
> 
> Anyway enough ranting, hope you all understand. So there's one more chapter and a possible epilogue (cause this chapter got longer the second time writing it, ironically enough and I may or may not just smash the epilogue in with the next chapter, depending how long it turns out). I shall endeavor to write as quickly as I can, just pray my muse won't fail me, and will hopefully not have a massive break between updates again.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and it was worth the stupid long wait!


	15. Completely (Utterly)

 

"Wait, just...let me park." Harry blinked and tightened his grip on the wheel, his vision splitting and going hazy as Draco's fingers found his inner thigh - squeezing the firm muscle with two fingers pressing tight against his groin.

  
  
"Hurry the fuck up already." Draco murmured, his lips wet against Harry's neck, licking hotly and sucking not so gently.

  
Shoving the gear into park, Harry eased his foot off the break, shut off the engine and turned his head sharply - his lips capturing Draco's hungrily after tangling his fingers into the other man's hair and pulling him up to meet him. The embrace was sloppy, fueled with an urgency that had been building and building inside him since they had slipped into the car and Draco had immediately started kissing him and touching him wherever he could reach while Harry tried valiantly not to crash into the sparse traffic as he sped as fast as he dared to get them home. 

  
He felt like he was going to erupt, his mind spinning with questions, but none of them more important at the moment than _this_. This kiss, this embrace, this perfect feeling that was trampling through him like a stampede, like a searing prong burning its way from the swell of his lips and right down into his toes. If only the blasted gear shift would stop getting in the way between them and keeping Harry from pulling Draco onto him like he desperately wanted (needed) - forcing them to grapple at each other awkwardly around it as they bumped elbows against the steering wheel.

 

"Bedroom." Harry choked out, a light sweat already rising on his skin from where he was burning under his clothes, Draco's hands a wicked torch moving over him, sliding up and down his leg, cupping his hard prick, and curling around his neck - the car way too hot and stuffy already, suffocating him in his own sharply exhaled breath.

 

Draco shook his head, his mouth descending back down to Harry's throat. "Too far. Backseat?"

 

Hands still caught in the other man's white blonde hair and eyes struggling to stay open and focused, Harry glanced behind him, silently gauging the space available, weighing his desire to shed his and Draco's clothes and having the room to go at each other without constant curses as they bumped into obstacles.

 

"Stop thinking about it." Draco rasped into his ear, his tongue tracing the shell as his fingers nimbly undid Harry's trousers. "You know how often I've thought of this?"

 

"Being together?" Harry clarified, his vision turning against him and splitting again. With a groan, Harry gave up and let his eyes slip closed, his hands attempting to push the heavy robe from Draco's shoulders but only managing to get it down partially on one side. Blasted economy car. "Or doing it in the car?"

 

"Both but I was speaking of fucking you in this monstrous muggle vehicle. You know how much restraint it took not to blow you on the drive back from that club Hermione dragged us too? I could feel you hard against me while we were dancing. It was torture."

 

Harry let out a choked laugh, his heart stuttering violently in his chest and his mind spinning with all that was happening. The contract was dissolved. Draco was his. And apparently the blonde had a secret thing for wanting to strip Harry down in his own car. "You knew?" He asked, a small sliver of embarrassment pricking at him at the realization that Draco had known just how much their time on the dance floor had affected him. Which was just ridiculous, he knew it was, especially considering the fact that Draco was currently shoving his hand down Harry's undone trousers and running his palm up and down his cock.

 

Draco nodded, his fingers wrapping around Harry's length and pulling as Harry turned his face into Draco's hair - breathing deeply as his hands clutched the other man's shoulders.

 

"Why didn't you say anything?" Harry gasped, hips jerking up into Draco's hand and knee bashing into the underside of the console.

 

"You know why. Sick mother, evil contract, terribly inappropriate crush on my famous flatmate and former nemesis." He murmured, pulling down on Harry's collar and pressing a kiss under the bone, his teeth nipping and leaving a bright patch of stinging red. "How about we strike a deal? We'll go up to the flat and I'll fuck you on whatever surface you want...after I make you cum in your pants."

 

"Deal." Harry huffed out, already out of breath and elated at the carefree rumble of Draco's words, his fingers digging into the blonde’s shirt as he all but collapsed sideways into him. He hid his face in the man's pale neck, ignoring the tang of spilled potion that still clung to his skin in uneven patches, and grinned. Because this was the Draco he had been waiting for. Not the gentle, quiet, unsteady man who had first entered his bed. Not the desperate, conflicted man who had fought against his own wants and desires. This was Draco with nothing to keep him from being the unfiltered, cocky, bastard that Harry had fallen in love with.

 

This was Draco finally able to act on his inappropriate crush.

 

And it was all too much, everything pressing inside him, colliding in an explosion that left him feeling shattered in the best way possible. And it just kept building with Draco all around him, touching him, kissing him, his breath and heartbeat a tangible thing beneath Harry's fingers and lips - the hand moving over him in quick jerks keeping his mind muddled except for one thought.

 

_He's mine._

 

"You look unbearably fit by the way." Draco said, his voice frustratingly steady as Harry groaned and felt his face grow painfully warm, flushing bright. "I thought it couldn't get much better than you dressed as Bond but apparently I was quite wrong." He paused and twisted his wrist, his thumb smearing over the drops of precum that were leaking from the slit as Harry jerked and cursed brokenly.

 

He felt a tremor vibrate up his spine as Draco placed two fingers under his chin and forced his face up until their eyes locked through Harry's disastrous, fallen curls. His mouth hanging open on a pant, his chest heaving as he tried to hold on, to stay in this second as long as he possibly could - because he wanted to keep falling in Draco's dark gray eyes and the thousand miles of words unspoken within them. He never wanted to stop. "Draco." He groaned, pulling on the man's shirt even though they were already as close as they could possibly get in the small space.

 

"You are breathtaking like this." The blonde whispered and Harry let out a cry, his eyes widening as he came suddenly and intensely - Draco's lips crashing over his and swallowing his dwindling whimpers, pressing his tongue against the darker man’s and stuttering out his own groan that left Harry feeling even more undone, like someone had snipped the last bits of restraint and consciousness from him as if they were nothing more than flimsy strings of ribbon.

 

They stayed that way for a long moment, clutching each other, breathing the same air, foreheads pressed together, and lips brushing in kisses that felt like they were snatching back time in tiny snippets – rewinding the clock, rewinding all the pain, and remaking it with this.

 

"So..." Harry started once he got his breathing under control and the feeling back in his toes, his voice rough as his fingers loosened their hold on Draco's shirt - the reality that he had just cum in his car, on the side of the street, with a lamp shining out their window, making him squirm in embarrassment that was shockingly not enough to make him regret it one little bit. Though he should probably get them inside before he took Draco up on the backseat suggestion. "I do believe that there was a promised second part to our deal?"

 

Draco pulled back and grinned, white teeth flashing in one of the biggest smiles Harry could ever remember seeing from the other man. "Mhmm, indeed, after you."

 

With a horrifically soppy ( _manically happy_ ) grin on his own face, Harry tucked himself away and was only mildly surprised to find no incriminating evidence staining his clothes before he was pushing open his door and stepping out onto the sidewalk on slightly unsteady feet.

 

"Come on Bond." Draco nudged into his shoulder, his hand slipping into Harry's (warm and slim fingered) and tugging.

 

Harry couldn't stop the little laugh that escaped his lips as he followed his flatmate (partner? Boyfriend? Lover? Was there even a name for what Harry felt in his heart for the two of them?) up the path and through the front door. "You're not actually planning on calling me that all night are you?" He asked, trying to force his legs that had been reduced to jelly only moments ago to keep up with the fast pace that Draco was setting up the stairwell.

 

"No." Draco answered before shooting him a mischievous smile over his shoulder, his eyes slipping slowly up and down Harry from the top of his mused head all the way down to his pinched toes. "Not tonight away."

 

"But it's a future plan of yours?" Harry clarified as Draco paused at their door and drew the keys from his pocket.

 

“You don't really think that little car fantasy is the only one I've been harboring do you?" Draco turned, the door swinging open on silent hinges, and Harry stumbling into him as the blonde tugged him forward - the spark of promised mischief still potent in his gray eyes as he wrapped his arms around the darker man.

 

Harry blushed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pictured Draco sitting next to him on the couch watching Bond, the blonde dissolving into dirty fantasies in his mind as Harry tried to keep from touching him while silently hoping that Draco would close the distance between them. He remembered all those long nights with Draco’s thigh touching his, his fair head on Harry’s shoulder, the tipsy words, and tipped back drinks until the glass was empty. The dazed look in Draco eyes, the flecks of gold and specks of blue that Harry could see in his irises when he got that close.

 

"I could get into that." Harry whispered, his grin forcing his lip free from its trap between his teeth, his chin tipping up just a fraction in invitation as he wound his arms around Draco's shoulders. His fingers slid through the hairs at the nape of the other man's neck that was still a little sticky from his earlier potions accident and the heat from the car. "Are you going to fire your apprentice?" He heard himself asking as his gaze traced over Draco's full bottom lip, the door clicking shut behind them even though neither had moved.

 

"Without a doubt." 

 

Harry nodded, his hands moving down and under Draco's thick robes, pushing the material from his shoulders to pool on the floor by their feet. He could feel the man's steady gaze on his face as he ran his palms down the hard, sharp lines of the blonde’s chest, his fingers slipping into the button holes and popping them free. "And your mother?" He asked as the last button came free, leaving the vest hanging open over his rumpled black button up shirt.

 

"Am I firing my mother?" Draco clarified, his voice a little ragged, a little unsteady, the sound of it making Harry feel stronger, like they had just flipped places from moments ago and it was beyond thrilling to know he could have the same effect on the man that Draco had on him. It didn't seem possible, didn't seem like something he’d ever be granted in this life – being allowed something this perfect. This consuming.

 

"No." Harry chuckled as he pulled the hastily tucked shirt tales from Draco's trousers, the little buttons slipping free one after the other as he worked his way back up to Draco's throat - pale skin flashing between the black fabric and drawing Harry's mind back to the first time they had done this. Draco was wearing the same shirt then as he was now - with his back against the wall, his voice quiet, his body still with what Harry now knew was tormented desire. "How did you do it? How did you convince her to dissolve the contract?"

 

"Harry."

 

Pausing with his fingers on the last little button, Harry glanced up through his lashes, his breath catching all over again from the look he was met with. Merlin but Draco's eyes had to be one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen and the intensity the man could put into a single look...Harry's exhale was shaky, his heart thudding beneath his ribcage. "Yes?"

 

"Stop talking about my mother. Rather a mood killer." Grasping Harry's wrists tightly, Draco pulled his hand from his shirt while simultaneously cupping the back of Harry's neck - staring him down for one silent moment before he was pulling him nearer and pressing a hungry kiss to his lips. "Now you have five seconds to pick where you want to be fucked or I'm taking you against the door."

 

"Demanding." Harry murmured, his eye sight going hazy again as he swallowed thickly.

 

"Yes." The single word seared Harry's skin and he couldn't help but wonder how it hadn't burnt Draco's tongue in the process, how the look in his eyes (dark, heavy, like he was going to be Harry's undoing) hadn't reduced him to puddle of nothing already.

 

"Where do you want me?"

 

Draco smirked, his hand dropping to the front of Harry's trousers that were already starting to tent once more. "Everywhere." He breathed hotly against Harry's ear. "I plan on taking the next few days to finally see you splayed out over ever surface of this flat."

 

"Oh god." Harry groaned, reaching without thought or direction for Draco's own fastenings, the leather belt slipping free as he felt lips (hot, so damn hot) descend on his neck again.

 

"You like that don't you?" Draco murmured, his mouth moving over Harry's skin in a sweeping kiss that made every nerve light on fire. "You like hearing me talk about what I want to do to you. Makes you look positively drunk."

 

"Merlin, fuck me Draco." Harry groaned, nodding despite himself because it was true. God it was true, hearing those words from his flatmates lips was like drinking from the best bottle of whiskey he could ever dream up. It flowed inside him in a heatwave, made his head foggy, and god...Draco could have him anywhere and everywhere and he knew he'd never complain.

 

"I'm getting to that." He said, voice even and dripping with sensuality as Harry's shirt and jacket fell from his shoulders even though he wasn't sure when they had been undone - leaving the heather gray tie hanging loosely from his neck.

 

"Hell." Harry cursed with what felt like desperation, his skin hypersensitive as Draco dragged his hands over his exposed chest and arms before grabbing the tie - his long, pale fingers tangling in the end of it.

 

"Shall I tell you want I've wanted to do with this tie since first seeing it wrapped around your neck?" Draco sidled closer, tugging on the tie and twisting it until it was wound around the hand he had placed on the back of Harry's neck. He dropped his chin and breathed tantalizingly over the other man's mouth as he finished undoing Harry's trousers one handed and let them slip down to his ankles with a little nudge of encouragement. "Or would that be too much too soon? Shall I wait until we've been on at least one official date to scandalize you?"

 

"I think we're already past that don't you?" Harry croaked, proud of himself for getting the entire sentence out without his knees giving out beneath him as Draco tugged - the tie unraveling in his hand as he started walking backwards, leading Harry further into the living room, his feet tripping over his trousers in awkward shuffles before he managed to toe off his shoes and kick out of them.

 

"Well I don't know about you Harry, but I plan on having a ridiculously sappy first date with you. Dinner. Candle light. Maybe a walk through a dead garden. You know the usual rubbish."

 

Harry laughed as he fell back onto the couch with one little push from the other man who was still frustratingly fully clothed, a grin splitting his lips as he remembered recounting his blind date to Draco all those weeks ago as the man hid out from Ethan in his bed. God, they'd come so far since then and somehow he knew that walking through a freezing dead garden would be terribly wonderful if it was with Draco by his side. God, he really needed to learn how to stop being so horrifically sappy. "Perhaps I should get dressed then? Don't think walking around wearing only a smile in public is an entirely wise idea."

 

Cocking his head and raising one eyebrow, Draco stared down at him before slowly plucking the last button holding his shirt together free and slipping the clothes slowly from his body - removing the fabric like a dance, like a caress. He was so pale and long, made up of sharp angles that Harry now knew how to melt under his touch - the sight leaving his heart hammering against his rib cage. Merlin he _needed_ to touch him, needed to feel him close until everything was a tangle of heat and tightness. "You aren't going anywhere Potter."

 

Harry swallowed as he watched the vest and shirt hit the floor and nodded dumbly. "I don't want to be anywhere else." He said, feeling his heart swell like it had when he had first seen Draco standing on the steps at the party. Like it had when the other man had kissed him back that first time (soft and careful). Like when the blonde had first whispered his name after their kiss. Like when he'd touched his skin and slipped inside him. Like every moment he spent in his presence. "Ever."

 

Falling to his knees in a sudden and startling movement, Draco reached forward and grasped Harry's face, peeling him off the back of the couch and taking up his lips in a hungry kiss. Gripping his thighs, Draco pulled him forward until his arse was against the edge of the cushion, his hands tangled in Draco's white blonde hair, and his body shuddering as he felt the cool fabric of Draco's trousers brush against him. "Harry...I can't be slow tonight." He said against Harry's lips, his fingers moving down to whisper over his buttocks, his thumb brushing along his opening.

 

"Then don't be."

 

"Tell me when you're ready."

 

"Wha- oh!" Harry gasped, his knees pressed into his chest, his hands scrambling under them to keep them from falling back down with his frayed nerves and useless muscles as he blinked down and watched the top of Draco's bright head moving up and down with jerks of his chin as his tongue pressed hot and wet against his hole. "God Draco, fuck." He whined, unable to care what he sounded like as that slick muscle stabbed into him, the feeling of Draco's fingers on his arse, pulling his cheeks apart, pushing them together, kneading into the flesh a distant melody that rose with the hunger inside him.

 

It was almost agonizing how good Draco was at this, bringing Harry gasping to the edge in bare minutes with long licks and thick jabs and sucking that alternated harsh and soft, his long finger pressing into him when he was wet and red and open - Harry barely even registering it beyond a spike of pleasure and a tremor that made him shake.

 

"Another?" The blonde asked, his face still buried, his voice obscenely muffled, his lips moving over his sensitive skin.

 

"Yes." Harry groaned, widening his knees and craning his neck up so he could look back down at him. "No. Lick me." He could feel Draco's smirk as the man resumed his efforts until he was dripping, two fingers suddenly beside the tongue moving over him and pressing swiftly in. "God yes...just...wait, I'm ready." He gasped, his legs jerking, his back arching, his body empty a moment later only to be filled by that wonderfully evil tongue again. "Draco, please." His voice wobbled, his hand pressing against the man's blonde head in opposition to what he was saying, urging him on, urging him deeper than he could go.

 

Pulling back and dislodging the hand out of his hair, Draco grabbed Harry's feet and pushed, lifting the man's arse further off the cushion and making him slip down the backrest. Harry felt his knees falling over the bend of Draco's elbows, felt something hard and slick and thick press against him, stealing what was left of his air and making everything spin. He blinked his eyes and forced them to focus, to seek out Draco's mused hair and swollen lips and red chin, his eyes tracing over his face and lower over his flushed chest all the way down to where he had propped his cock against him, pressing just enough to threaten penetration - making him pant with the pressure it teased him with. He needed this. Wanted this. For so long he'd wanted this.

 

"Is this a fantasy too?" Harry asked, his voice horse and sparse, sweat sticking a curl to the corner of his eye, the urge to force the man inside him overwhelming. "Making me beg for you inside me on the couch?" Because Merlin, it was one of his.

 

"You have no idea." Draco said heavily and before Harry could reply, could beg, his hips were snapping forward, pushing inside him and making Harry's eyes roll back into his head with a curse and a sigh of _yes_ that vibrated throughout him. Holding tight to his legs, Draco set a quick rhythm, fulfilling his promise of not going slow but instead pounding into him until Harry felt like he was going to break apart in pure bliss.

 

His free hand found his own cock, hard and leaking, and started pulling in time to the thrusts moving inside him, stabbing in and dragging out, hips angling and changing until Harry convulsed and let out a loud groan. He dragged his eyes back open and watched in awe as Draco took him, claimed him, with his hair in his face and his cheeks flushed red - a relentless patch of potion still on his neck even after the hasty cleaning charm the man had cast over himself in the stairwell.

 

 _He's mine_ , he thought, the notion chasing itself around inside his head as he fell to pieces. "I'm going to cum." He gasped, still staring at that speck of potion, bright red against his flushed skin, moving with each heaving breath that raked through the other man. 

 

He had a mad desire to lick it off and then he couldn't thick straight, couldn't hear Draco's reply, because the world was falling from beneath his feet, the room was turning white, and Harry barely recognized his own voice as he came with a shout that rattled his bones. There was the vague yet overwhelming feeling of another hand on his cock, pressing over the sensitive head, slipping through the mess as the hips pounding into him jerked and stuttered.

 

"Harry, oh god Harry."

 

His body bent as Draco fell forward, their lips sealing together in a kiss Harry wasn't sure who initiated, their hands grasping tight to each other’s sweating skin, a gentle tremor sweeping down Draco's body that Harry was sure was originating inside himself.

 

"I love you." Draco whispered, soft and out of breath and Harry could still feel him pulsing around him, inside him, as those words swelled throughout him.

 

Harry grinned (sloppy, exhausted, elated). "So you can tell me you love me before a first date but not what scandals you have planned for me and my tie?"

 

Draco snorted and moved off him, flopping onto his back and pulling Harry down atop him in a messy tangle, his hand running over the knotted length of material that was sticky with his release. "How about you let me take you out tomorrow and I'll do more than tell you."

 

"Intriguing offer. I'll be there."

 

"With the tie."

 

"With the tie." Harry agreed, his head resting against Draco's shoulder as his fingers played idly over his collar, a sudden intense wave of exhaustion spilling over him now that he finally had the other man in his arms again. "I missed you." He whispered, almost afraid to brake the peaceful loll around them but needing to say it, to put a voice to the terrible week it had been without having the other man in his life. "I was...I thought I might have lost you."

 

Draco was quiet for a long moment before turning his body into Harry's, shifting until they were squished side by side on the couch, his long arm draped over Harry's waist with his fingers caressing the small of his back. "I told her it was you." He said quietly, his gray eyes downcast, fixed on Harry's shoulder.

 

"What?"

 

"My mother. You asked how I convinced her to dissolve the contract, well I told her it was because I was in love with someone...with you..." He trailed off with a shrug, his expression flickering with a wax smoothness like it did when Draco was trying to detach. But it didn't take over, he didn't shut down, it was a battle that happened in split second flashes that Harry would have missed entirely if he didn't know the other man as well as he did. 

 

Furrowing his brow, Harry let a little frown of confusion pull his lips down. "Why didn't you just tell her that the first day you went to talk to her about it?" They could have saved so much time. So much heartbreak.

 

"I was going to but…I was worried that it would destroy her. Taking away her hope for a child might have taken away what she was holding on for. I didn't want...I _couldn't_ be the reason she faded further away. So instead I looked for loopholes in the contract, I looked into the laws on marriage and inheritance, anything that could break it without involving her or...hurting her." He paused again, his hand sliding up Harry's back to the nape of his neck, slipping over his cheek, his thumb pressing lightly against the corner of the darker man's lip. He had a far off look in his eye, a quiet determination, a glittering hope in the distance like he was reliving it all now.

 

Harry kissed the pad of Draco's thumb and smiled, his heart beating fast in his chest as he waited for him to gather his thoughts and continue. He couldn't deny that there was a part of him that understood why Draco had tried to find the easiest way, why he had looked for routes that wouldn't shake his mother's fragile state. But in the end there had been none besides telling her and he had to bite his tongue against the smile that wanted to turn up his lips at the thought of it - at the reality that Draco had decided they were worth the risk. 

 

"The first few times I told her, she didn't understand, she just looked at me with this blank stare before holding my hand and patting it like I was a child again asking for a treat. So I came back the next day and the next, every day after work. I would sit with her until I thought she was at her clearest and then I'd tell her. I told her everything. I told her I wished to be with you, that I loved you, that you made me...happier than I thought I would ever be allowed to be. I told her that I'd spend my life with Pansy if that was what she needed but that my heart would be with you." He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head softly before looking at Harry, his gaze pleading. "Harry, you have to understand...I needed her to be okay with this...she's my _mother_ and I...I just needed-"

 

"I understand." He said with a gentle smile, his heart aching for all that Draco had gone through. For them. To be with him. "What did she say when she finally understood?"

 

"Nothing, she just leaned back and started gazing up at the stars like she spends so much of her time doing lately and smiled. My father called me back the next morning, today actually, and had the contract laid out on the table. She had already signed off on dissolving it." Draco answered, a small smile turning up his lips as he let his thumb drag over Harry's bottom one. "Apparently I'm not the only Malfoy taken with you."

 

Harry let out a soft chuckle and wiggled a little closer, his lips brushing gently over Draco's. "She did it for you Draco, for your happiness, not because of me."

 

"Same thing in the end though isn't it?" He murmured, snagging the back of Harry's head and pressing in for a deep kiss before he could say anything else. It drifted lazily to an end with Harry's arms tight around him and Draco caressing his cheek, the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine and keeping his naked skin warm in the cooling air. "I do hope you realize that you're stuck with me now."

 

"I think I can live with that." Harry grinned as he looked at the man who had stolen his heart so very long ago. But he didn't have to keep his longing in anymore, he didn't have to sit and pretend that watching the blonde live his life without being with him wasn't killing him.

 

Because he was finally, completely (utterly) his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...that was dirty and then stupidly sappy, don't know what happened there...anyways, only one chapter left guys! Hope you enjoyed this raunchy little addition ;)


	16. Epilogue

 

 

 

The toaster popped, ejecting six perfectly golden pieces of bread from the depths of the sleek overly fancy appliance to bob enticingly with the warm scent getting immediately lost amongst the scrambling eggs and sizzling bacon. With a wave of his hand, the toast sailed from their slots and onto the awaiting plate as Harry jerked the handle of the pan, flipping the eggs in a graceful arc.

 

"Harry," Draco murmured, his voice brushing against his ear as the other man came to stand behind him, his arm looping around Harry's waist as he leaned towards him. "Hermione just told me something very interesting." He said as he slid a mug of steaming coffee next to the hob, his other hand pressing flat against the darker man's stomach and making a blasted fluttering take up residence inside him as he eyed the coffee and felt the press of Draco's fingers and tried not to shiver from the tickle of his warm breath.

 

"Oh?" Harry twisted to glance at him from over his shoulder, his eyes catching briefly on Seamus tipping back in the kitchen chair behind him and Ron laughing loudly at something he'd just said before landing on the blonde. He looked first at the smirk curving his lips up sharply, then up at the one arched eyebrow, before the flash of Hermione's thick hair bouncing into the kitchen snagged his attention for a split second - their eyes catching as she struggled to vanish a badly hidden grin before turning from him.

 

The room behind him was filled with chatter, with the clang of dishes and the pop of a champagne bottle, with the easy smiles, conversations, and bickering of longtime friends. Yet even with their kitchen brimming with the humming energy Harry still felt the flutter inside him pick up in tempo - spreading a flush over his cheeks as he focused back on the man holding him snugly.

 

He figured he really should be getting used to it by now because he felt like he was living with a permanent swarm of butterflies nesting inside him lately - the mad fluttering starting from the moment he woke in the morning to find Draco asleep next to him till he finally laid back down at night with his skin sticky and a stupid, manic grin on his face, the thought of showering a distant necessity when he had Draco cocooned around him and already dropping into the first dregs of sleep. 

 

The picture the blonde made in those few silent moments was deeply engraved in his mind already, playing through his thoughts throughout the day while away at the office - the soft smile on Draco's sleeping face, his arm curled possessively around him, that groggy morning lilt in his ear, dragging him back to bed, back under the covers...

 

He felt a smile spread over his lips despite the butterfly assault that left him feeling achy in places he didn't want to be aching in while in company as Draco's thumb brushed under his ribs, his head falling back just a fraction to land on the other man's shoulder - head tilted for a kiss. "What did she say?" He asked, his stomach somersaulting as Draco's gaze lazily traveled down to his lips.

 

He really should be getting used to this by now too, he thought, as Draco bent and pressed their mouths together in a kiss. But he wasn't. He didn't think he'd ever get completely used to it. To the velvet softness of the man's lips, to the carefree way he slung his arm over his shoulders and tugged - drawing him closer than he was used to. To the warmth of him in his bed, to coming home to him each and every night - just like before but different. So very different. So much better. Like he'd been unknowingly living in a world of black and white before but now the veil had been drawn from his eyes and everything was suddenly splashed in vibrant hues that took his breath away.

 

"Ugh, cut it out Draco, you'll infect our food with your grotesque affection." Pansy grumbled, a little chuckle escaping Harry's throat as the blonde pulled back from the kiss to glare at her with his lips a little redder than before, his cheeks tinted with a hint of a flush.

 

He loved that tiny, barely there flush. Love the smudge of pink on Draco's cheeks when their hands brushed and fingers tangled, when their kisses ended too soon, when he woke from falling asleep on Harry's shoulder while watching a movie. It made Harry think that maybe he wasn't the only one with an army of butterflies tormenting him, that perhaps he wasn't the only one who still wasn't used to walking around in a new world full of color.

 

"Fuck off Pansy or you won't get any bacon." Draco snapped as Harry turned back to the hob and switched off the gas, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an unsuccessful attempt to quell his grin.

 

"I don't eat bacon." She snipped.

 

"Who doesn't eat bacon?" Seamus demanded in an appealed manner. "Everyone loves bacon!"

 

"I don't care much for it either actually." Hermione added, to which Seamus let out a loud sound of utter disbelief. "It's nothing but fat and unnecessary sodium."

 

"What the fuck is sodium?" Seamus grumbled.

 

Grabbing the mug of coffee, Harry turned and brought it to his lips, the liquid hot and bitter with just the right amount of sweetness cutting it. Leaning back against counter, he smiled at the scowl on Draco's face as the blonde listened halfheartedly to the debate going on at the kitchen table. Lowering the mug, Harry tugged lightly on the sleeve of Draco's fitted, knit jumper, drawing the man's attention back to himself. "You were saying?" He prompted, raising an eyebrow and taking another long sip - the drink burning down his throat and warming his belly.

 

Draco watched his throat move and Harry cursed the damn flutters that decided it was time to make another appearance inside him. "Mhm? Oh yes." Draco nodded, the smirk that had slid off his face moments ago creeping back up as he crowded Harry against the hob, fingers brushing his hip as he clutched the edge of the counter. "She mentioned something about you and a five step plan." He said, his voice dropping into a low murmurer. "Ring any bells?"

 

Well, hell - he wasn't expecting that. "Possibly." Harry hedged, reminding himself that no matter how unbelievably sexy Draco looked at the moment with his hastily styled hair (due to them getting a little too caught up together and forgetting the time) and slouchy jumper with a small purple blossom marking the corner of his neck (which Draco had firmly told him was to be the last of them, stating that he had no desire to walk around looking like a leper) that it was _not_ acceptable for him to jump him.

 

Their friends might have allowed it once, at the costume party a little over a month ago, but not again. Plus Harry had a feeling that it might actually kill Seamus who somehow still seemed a little perplexed by everything.

 

"Possibly?" Draco cocked his head, a dangerous look lighting in his eyes as he bent a little closer. "And what do you _possibly_ know of it?"

 

"Hermione may have helped me come up with a plan for...winning your affection."

 

"Winning my affection?" Draco chuckled, fingers curling tighter around Harry's hip. "What a wholesome way to spin it Potter. Fits in rather nicely with all your being my hero talk. Though I must say, I much prefer the way Granger put it."

 

Harry swallowed and then silently cursed himself for doing so. It was much safer at the moment to hold his breathe, to not let his throat bob, to not attract Draco's eye with the movement, to pretend that he couldn't feel the press of his fingers on his skin. At the very least he should try to pretend that he wasn't so hopelessly wound around Draco's finger, his body a puppet to be pulled at the slightest twitch of the paler man's attention.

 

Or at least pretend until after brunch and they had the flat to themselves again - after all he could think of a few choice surfaces Draco hadn't had him on yet (though the list had been steadily dwindling with each passing day).

 

"Seduction?" He asked, rather stupidly, because that word conjured images of how they'd put the kitchen table that all their friends were laughing around to use last night. He could still recall the feel of the wood against his back, the unforgiving hardness under his fingers, the sound of Draco's hand slapping down hard against its surface as the legs groaned. 

 

"That's the one. A five step plan of seduction." Draco murmured as Harry felt his blush deepen, his gaze sliding fractionally in a moment of flustered embarrassment to the table beyond them, landing on Pansy pushing at Seamus's chest with a smile on her lips and Ron's arm slung over Hermione's shoulders as she leaned against the table and chatted with (or _at_ really) Theo Nott - no one paying them a hint of attention because this wasn't new. Draco and him crowded together, falling off into their own conversations, it hadn't been new for years. It was funny to think that their relationship had blossomed backwards, how close they had been before they'd became more.

 

Ron had always been right about them in a sense. They had been together for so long already without either of them admitting it.

 

He blinked his attention back as Draco plucked the coffee mug from his fingers and deposited it back onto the counter. "But I'm curious, what were these steps exactly? Because honestly Potter, I think back and can't seem to recall too much seducing happening on your part before you kissed me."

 

"I may have...not made it through all the steps..." He muttered, feeling sheepishly warm as he thought back to that night in Hermione's living room all those weeks ago. How he'd cried on her shoulder, how he'd finally admitted what ached inside him, how she had stood resolute before him with the plan in her hands.

 

That insane plan that had started this all, that had led him on this path, that had given him the courage to finally do something. Merlin if it hadn't been for her and her plan would he even be here now? With Draco's kiss a ghost on his lips, his touch more than friendship, with the promise of the future he'd wanted for so long held tightly in their grasps? Or would Draco still be with Ethan, still secretly engaged to Pansy? Without that fateful night of bumbling tears would they still be standing a little too close and horribly far away at the same time? Would they still be pretending?

 

Maybe. Probably.

 

He looked back at Hermione, her voice faltering in conversation as she noticed him staring, her brow quipping in a silent question with a warm smile on her face. He grinned back at her, his smile holding all the words of thanks building up inside him, then Draco's voice low in his ear was prying him back to their conversation a moment later, and before he could stop himself he had his hands tangled in Draco's perfectly kept hair and was cutting his words off with an urgent kiss that made his toes curl in his socks.

 

There was a brief huff of shock before two strong arms were wrapping around him, hauling him tightly against Draco's long lean body - his thoughts falling to the wayside, heat curling inside him, his heart thumping in an offbeat rhythm as he clung to him. And as his neck bent back, as fingers dipped past the band of his trousers, as he heard the harsh drag of Draco's breath (sharp and quick), the memory of their first official date bloomed in his mind, tangling itself into the unexpected moment – he thought of the kiss in the darkened street outside his favorite dinner, the way Draco's fingers knotted his scarf around his throat before kissing him again, like he couldn't help himself. Longer, deeper, until they were nothing but an extension of the shadows around them. He remembered how they missed the movie they had tickets for, how his fingers and toes had turned numb from standing under that awning for so long. Just kissing. Slow, steady kisses that left his knees weak.

 

It hadn't been the fanciest date he had ever been on. Nor had it been the most classically romantic. But it had been the best, the brightest, the one that would stand forever in his mind.

 

Draco's hands gripped him tighter as his mouth pushed against his, demanding more despite the people around them and Seamus's piercingly harsh laugh, and Harry found another memory lighting beneath the pull in his navel, the pleasant turning in his stomach.

 

Draco had taken him along on his visit to see his mother last week. The Manor had been exactly as he had remembered it as a teenager and yet different. It seemed smaller, shriveled, clinging to a life that no longer existed - like someone had taken a knife to the ancient walls and hollowed it out, nick by nick. But the biggest change had been the reflection of the decay around them in Narcissa. It had been painfully shocking to see her so frail and sunken, to see her energy reduced to lifting a hand and pulling her lips up in a half smile even though he had been expecting it.

 

They had had lunch in the middle of an indoor garden, the heat unnatural and balmy, the conversation stilted with Mrs. Malfoy drifting off mid-sentence in an exhausted daze. But she had seemed happy, she had smiled at Draco's hand touching the small of his back lightly as the blonde indicated which seat was his, her tired gaze bouncing back and forth between them like she couldn't be sure what she was seeing was real or not but wanted it to be.

 

"For fucks sake, it's been a month, you two can stop groping each other at every chance anytime now." Pansy huffed and Harry felt an elbow in his side as her voice neared, his breath lost somewhere outside himself as he broke from Draco's lips to see her snagging the pan of eggs and bacon off the hob. "And I'm taking this." She said with a pointed look.

 

"Breakfast at last!" Seamus hollered.

 

"Brunch technically." Nott corrected.

 

"Is there orange juice Harry?" Ron asked as Pansy set the pan of hot food down onto the middle of the table.

 

"Yeah, just a sec." Harry nodded, his fingers threading their way slowly back out of Draco's hair as he locked eyes with the other man. He licked his tingling lips and watched the darkened irises of Draco's gray gaze as he attempted to blink the hazy away.

 

Seeing Draco in his family's home that day, seeing him interact with his sick mother and listening to his quiet voice as they walked the halls that had housed him a child, had been like slipping the last piece of the puzzle that was Draco Malfoy into place. He felt like he understood even better everything that had transpired between them because of it - like wiping the last bit of smudges from his lenses.

 

"Harry..." Draco began but Harry cut him off with a smile and a little shake of his head.

 

"I'll tell you everything." He said quietly, pecking one last kiss on his lips, his heart full and squeezing. And he would, he would tell him every little bit of it, just like Draco had allowed him to see every little bit of him, even the parts the Potion Master had always kept hidden out of sight. "Later." He grinned, biting his tongue from saying more, from confessing (again) how much he loved him, before pulling away and making his way over to the table.

 

Dishes were passed around, plates and cups were filled, and Harry couldn't keep the creepy, manic grin from his lips as Draco settled into the chair next to him - his hand slipping onto his knee as the chatter rose and fell around them.

  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
_Four Years Later_.  
  
  
  
Harry heard the car rolling up the drive before he saw it - the spin of the tires on the loose gravel, the gentle hum of the engine making him lift his head from his work in the garden. He smiled as he used the back of his hand to wipe the sticky sweat from his brow, his knees dislodging clumps of dirt as he rose to his feet. Picking his way through the newly cultivated flower beds, he swung the little wooden gate open and weaved his way around to the front of the house just in time to see Draco slam on the breaks - the tires throwing gravel in a spray behind it.

  
He still couldn't believe that Draco had talked him into getting his driver’s license but even more than that he couldn't believe that he actually let the blonde behind the wheel of his car ( _their car_ , Draco had corrected him with a smirk and a lifted eyebrow, his hand outstretched for the keys). And the blonde had been right - _technically_. Technically everything he owned was Draco's and vice versa, and had been for the last three years. 

  
They'd married after barely a year of dating, their engagement unfashionably short, their wedding a simple affair on Draco's plot of land - slipping matching bands on their fingers beneath the grand oak tree with their closest friends clumped around. They'd laughed and danced and drank in celebration well into the night until the stars were high and clear overhead and the only light visible was the full moon and the twinkling lights Molly had strung up in the trees. And as the last of their guests left, Harry had found himself lying on the grass in his much too expensive suit next to his new husband on the same patch of ground where he had first admitted his feelings, where he had first kissed him.

  
They had stayed that way for quite some time, holding hands, quietly starring up at the sky, both lost in their own consuming happiness, until Draco broke the stillness by rolling onto his side to face him - his fingers lifting to trace down Harry's jaw. A delicate, reverent touch, the kind that still made his stomach flutter warmly.  


"I wish my mother could have been here." Draco had whispered, so quietly Harry had barely been able to hear him. "She would have liked it, I think."

  
Narcissa had passed away mere days after Draco had turned to him on their couch while watching Bond, his pale face hard and serious, his fingers fidgeting on Harry's knee before grasping the back of his neck and pulling him into a deep and unexpected kiss that ended with him on his back and his glasses hanging crooked from his nose. And then the blonde had just done it, no preamble, no speech, no ring - he'd just rested his forehead against Harry's, hands playing with his raven curls, and said _marry me Harry_. 

  
Not even a question really. 

  
Harry had let out a breathless laugh, his heart stilling in his chest, his lips stretching into a grin despite the fact that the blonde had just stolen his proposal that he'd been planning for months. But even all the ruined work and the fact that the ring he'd already purchased was still in their room, buried under his socks in his top drawer, couldn't dampen the burst of joy that shot through him as he nodded quickly, muttering a breathless _yes_ before he was tilting his chin up and kissing him again.  


And in the end Harry couldn't have imagined their engagement happening any other way than the simple question followed by the hours of long, slow love making that had left him feeling strung out and kept him in bed well into the following afternoon. 

  
Harry had thought that Narcissa passing away would have understandably pushed out the date of their upcoming wedding but the night of the funeral, after the handful of the well wishes and mourners had left, Draco had caught him up in a crushing embrace in the middle of his childhood bedroom where the blonde had wandered to aimlessly some hours before – his voice thick and scratchy as he muttered into Harry's neck that he wanted to do it as soon as possible. That he didn't want to wait a moment longer.  


"She would have." Harry had agreed, rolling onto his side to match Draco's position, his fingers catching the blonde's cool ones on his face. "All she wanted was for you to be happy."  


Draco had smiled, softly, slowly, his face cast in the gentle golden glow of the string of lights. "I am." And then there was no more talking, their arms winding around each other, their lips locking, their clothes thrown limply onto the grass as Harry slipped atop the other man ( _his husband_ ), his touch tracing the band on Draco's finger as he held his hand down and took him (slowly, sweetly, acting out another set of vows that Harry intended to keep for the rest of his life as he listened to Draco's breath growing ragged in his ear).  


They started construction on their new home a week after returning from their honeymoon (a month of traipsing through Europe, eating too much buttery foods, drinking too much wine, testing their flexibility in new and inventive positions behind closed doors, and altogether drowning in stupid bliss). The two story house with its large wraparound deck took shape slowly on Draco's (their) property and when it was finished they had stood outside it, staring at the wooden structure and slopping lawn, and Harry couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to get so lucky - to have gotten all of this. A home. A real home. With the man that he loved beyond anything holding his hand and tugging him up the steps and through the front door - the blonde nearly bouncing with excitement, chattering a mile a minute about all the new things they were going to need (a shocking amount of them being new appliances) before Harry had shut him up by pressing him against the wall next to the staircase and thoroughly distracting him.

 

"You're back late." Harry said, kicking the dirt from his boots against the car’s tires as Draco slipped from the driver’s seat and swung the door closed. "Is everything okay with Pansy?"

 

"Yes, well no, technically I suppose, but she's fine." Draco smiled at him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as he popped the boot of the car, Harry trailing behind him and watching curiously as the blonde lifted it open. "I swung by the store to pick up a few things."

 

Harry stilled and pinned Draco with a pointed look, his stomach sinking as he remembered the last few impromptu purchases the other had made without him. Being a homeowner had opened up a whole new world of muggle gadgets that Draco had never even known existed. Like lawnmowers, hedge trimmers ( _their gigantic scissors Harry!_ ), snow blowers, weed-whackers, and a million other things they didn't exactly need filling up the shed. "What did you buy?"

 

"Just a few odds and ends." Draco muttered, pulling a canvas bag out and handing it to Harry. "There's a new little shovel thingy in there for you. That's what you needed right?"

 

The bag wasn't terribly large or heavy and Harry nodded as he let out a silent sigh of relief that got quickly tangled in his throat as the blonde reached back into the boot and hauled out his other purchase - Harry's eyes widening as he caught sight of it. "What...No. Draco _no_."

 

"Harry-"

 

"No, you don't need that."

 

"But it's -"

 

"You'll kill yourself with it. Or me. Or both of us possibly. Probably actually."

 

"I will not kill us." Draco huffed, annoyed, both his hands braced on his new purchase that looked beyond horrifying clutched in Draco's delicate fingers.

 

"Take it back right now." Harry demanded, taking a step towards the other man with his shoulders squared and jaw set - staring Draco down with what the blonde had dubbed his Auror Face Of Authority (aka, _don't fuck with me right now Draco_ ). He had gotten the same look when the man had come home with the battery powered hedge trimmers that had given Harry bloody nightmares of Draco losing his fingers. It was utterly terrifying to think that this purchase made the hedge trimmers look like a child's toy in comparison.

 

"That look doesn't work on me remember Potter?" He pointed out as he lifted one eyebrow with a cock of his head, looking perfectly impatient with Harry's adamant refusal. "Here, just let me show you how it -"

 

"No."

 

"You're unbearably stubborn you know?"

 

"So you've told me."

 

"I don't see what your objection is, it's a perfectly useful tool."

 

"It's a chainsaw!" Harry snapped. "What are you planning on doing with it anyway? Chop down all the ancient trees? Saw the shed to pieces? Use it get rid of that railing on the stairwell?" He realized his mistake a second too late, his heart sinking as he saw the idea light in Draco's mind, a faraway smile tugging on the corner of the man's mouth. The look flooded his mind with the memory of dismantled landscaping equipment and broken door hinges and screws falling out of Draco's pockets that he couldn't recall where they had come from in the first place. "No. No. Do not hack off the banisters handrail!"

 

"But I don't like the handrail. Throws off the aesthetics." 

 

"Not the point."

 

"Say's you." Easing the heavy chainsaw back down into the boot, Draco slammed the hood shut and crossed his arms indigently across his chest, pinning Harry with an exasperated look. "Fine, I won't dismantle the handrail but I'm not taking it back."

 

"Draco." Harry sighed, dropped the canvas bag onto the hood as he rubbed at his brow and the headache that was threatening to form there - this was going to be so much worse than the electric hedge trimmers and the time Draco had tried to dismantle the washing machine combined. He opened his mouth, hoping to try his hand at dissuading the other man from his purchase one last time, but then the bag tipped on its side, the top gaping open, and an edge of plastic snagged his attention. "What...what is that?" He asked quietly, his heart slowing from the maddening thump the fear of the chainsaw had caused inside him.

 

"What?" Draco asked, sounding startled by the shift of topic as he glanced at what Harry was staring at. "Oh, yes that. It's for James. Well, I suppose it’s more for us actually but it will go in his room...and ours...there's duel monitors you see."

 

Pulling the box from the bag, Harry ran his eyes over the gadget as something warm and fluttery swam through his stomach. "Why is there a screen?"

 

"It's a video one."

 

"Video? Seems excessive." Harry murmured but he was smiling, his lips stretching into a grin as he carefully laid the box back down, his palm pressing gently over it before slowly withdrawing, the chainsaw a distant thing in the back of his mind as he licked his lips and took another step closer.

 

"I don't see how it's excessive, I think -" He let out a huff of surprise as Harry grabbed him around the waist and pinned him against the car in one fluid move, his gray eyes widening as he blinked at him. "What are you...?"

 

"God I love you." Harry breathed, tangling his hand in the hair at the back of Draco's head and pulling him sharply into a hard kiss that quickly expelled the last remaining thoughts of the wicked machine in the boot of the car as he pressed himself against his husband, gripped him tighter, and deepened the kiss.

 

Four years they'd been doing this and it still stole his breath every time, without fail.

 

He felt Draco's hands grip his shoulders, his back, felt the surprised hum of pleasure rumble through the man's chest and into him, the heat of the kiss like a pool of lava rushing through his veins - his hands slipping down the familiar path of Draco's chest and stomach to his leather belt. He could feel the uncertain split-second pause in Draco's body as he kissed him hungrily and yanked the belt free with a quick tug before popping the button and shoving his trousers unceremoniously down his thighs as Harry broke from the kiss with a gasp and fell to his knees in the middle of their driveway.

 

"Harry." His name sounded both like a question and an encouragement as Draco gripped his hair, his cock hardening slowly beneath Harry's lips as he pressed open mouthed kisses against it. "Fuck, Harry." Draco gasped, his voice deep, already close to the gravel that rasped past his throat when he was past the point of no return.

 

He smiled, savored the sound of it, and sucked his cock into his mouth - the length hardening fully on his tongue and pushing at the back of his throat. He had a distant thought that he wouldn't be able to do this again for a long, long time, that all too soon they'd be confined to safe rooms in their house - that they'd have to be a little more conscious of the noise they made.

 

The reality of that future made this moment all the better, made it sharper in every sense of the word - the scent of Draco, the taste of him, the feel of his fingers curling through his hair, the little jabs of the man's hips, pushing in deeper and making Harry moan wantonly around him. He found himself thinking that he didn't want it to stop, that he wanted to draw this out, to make it a memory that would be sharp and vivid in Draco's mind too.

 

His knees shifted on the gravel, jagged little rocks digging into his skin through his jeans, the sun beating on his back, his own neglected cock heavy and throbbing between his legs, his dirt stained fingers pressing against Draco's pale white hips as he sucked and licked. He closed his eyes tight and listened to the sounds escaping Draco's lips, thought briefly of bending himself over the hood of the car and telling the blonde to fuck him then and there - to take him deep and hard so it would sting to sit later and ache with the memory of him inside him.

 

But that would mean pulling away and Harry found that he couldn't. It wasn't too much longer that Draco was moaning his name and cursing again before his hips stuttered and went rigid. "God Harry, yes." He groaned, pushing forward deep into Harry's mouth one last time before he was coming.

 

Harry groaned, his eyelids fluttered, and his arms wrapped around Draco's waist tightly as he swallowed convulsively - sucking gently long past the time Draco had spilled his last drop as the man's fingers unclenched and ran through his curls softly. Harry could feel the man's pulse beating wildly beneath his skin, could feel his breath drag in and out, could feel him trying to calm and regroup from the suddenness of it all.

 

"What was that for?" Draco asked quietly as Harry pulled back and pressed a series of kisses against the man's hip and lower stomach.

 

Rising from his knees, Harry cupped Draco's face with a soft smile and captured his lips in a tender kiss. "I love you." He said between kisses, his thumb caressing lazily across Draco's jaw, his fingers tucking a lock of hair behind the man's ear – completely mindless of the dirt he was leaving smudged not only on the blonde's hips but face as well now.

 

Draco's lips twitched into a smile before he was quipping an eyebrow questioningly, his cheeks still wonderfully pink from moments ago. "Should I be concerned about this trend of sexual attraction whenever I purchase something for James?"

 

"I'm always sexually attracted to you." Harry laughed, his hands tugging Draco's trousers and boxers back up onto his hips. "A disgusting amount actually if Pansy is to be believed."

 

"She's not and you know what I'm referring too."

 

Harry did know and the knowledge made him blush. He could remember the day they had assembled the crib, how he couldn't stop watching Draco with his screwdriver working towards putting something together instead of taking it apart for once, how it made his throat dry and chest tight - how they had made it just past the threshold of the nursery before he had pushed Draco down and rode him hard with his hands planted on the wall. Or the time he had caught Draco painting a series of birds in flight across the wall and up over the ceiling, how the black paint was spread so carefully and delicately, how it felt like Draco was weaving his magic into the very walls as well as deep into Harry's heart all over again - how he'd found himself moments later with his knees in the air and paint on his thighs as Draco held him down and fucked him like he urged him to.

 

He couldn't articulate why Draco spending his time and money on their son who wasn't even born yet made him ache for the blonde, it just did. Desperately.

 

"I honestly don't know." Harry answered, his hand combing through Draco's white blonde locks as he studied his aristocratic face. His deep gray eyes, icy and gold and blue around the edges, all his sharp angles and guarded smiles. He was still so breathtaking. He was contemplating how to best put his feeling into words - how this life they shared was more than he could have ever dreamed of and yet still, unfathomably, was about to get even better. It had always been easier to show Draco than tell him.

 

Draco was staring at him, a question in his eyes, that crooked one sided smile he loved on his lips, a splash pink on his cheeks that only Harry had the ability to produce anymore. Then a shrill ringing pulled him from his thoughts and broke the quiet spell that had been weaving around them - holding them still in each other’s arms.

 

Their eyes slid instantly and in unison to Draco's mobile phone in his pocket before jumping back up, locking with their hearts in their throats. With uncharacteristically fumbling fingers, Draco pulled the mobile free and answered it, the sleek devise pressed to his ear as he stared at Harry like the other man was the only thing keeping him from unhinging.

 

The conversation was short, barely three words spoken on Draco's end but Harry knew what was happening just by the look on the man's face - the way his eyes widened, his throat moving in a thick swallow, his mouth dropping open just a little.

 

"Well?" Harry demanded as soon as Draco hung up. "Is it...?"

 

Draco nodded, still looking a little shell shocked even though they'd been expecting this call any day now. "Yes...he's...she's in labor now."

 

A breathless laugh escaped his lips as Draco's stuttered words spun through him, his arms throwing themselves around Draco's shoulders as he felt his eyes well suddenly with stinging tears, his heart all but bounding from his chest. He felt like he'd been sprinting towards this moment for so long now only to find himself free falling through a wash of emotions so strong it threatened to steal him away.

 

"Fuck Harry, its happening." Draco whispered, his arms shaking a little as they wrapped tightly around Harry's back, his face pressing into the side of the darker man's neck. "It's really happening."

  
_It's really happening_. Fuck. It was. It was happening and he wasn't dreaming.

  
He could remember the morning Draco had brought it up - they had just finished breakfast and were clearing the dishes, Harry's hands wet and sudsy in the sink as he felt the blonde move behind him. He remembered smiling widely as he felt Draco's fingers on his stomach, already anticipating what that usually meant on lazy Saturday's but the other man didn't let his hands wander, he didn't find himself suddenly spread open on one of the many surfaces available.

 

Instead Draco had held him close, pressed a delicate kiss to the curve of his neck and said quietly but clearly, "I've been thinking...it's been awhile since we've talked about children..."

 

Harry hadn't been able to hide is initial surprise, the dish slipping from his fingers to crack loudly against the metal basin, his head turning sharply to seek out Draco's expression - and what he saw left him breathless and like his heart was suddenly fumbling along inside his chest, because he hadn't thought that this day would ever really come. Not with Narcissa buried beneath the ground. And he was okay with that, because who was he to grumble about what life had dealt him when he was so wonderfully happy? But his answer had tumbled straight off his lips a second later anyway because even though he hadn't let himself hope too deeply for it, it had never been a question he'd had to wrestle with. It was an answer that was already engraved inside him.

 

Finding a surrogate had turned out to be a tightly locked up emotional process for Draco and Harry knew that he hadn't been able to shake the fear that they'd never find someone as the blonde sunk into memories of his mother and what she had wanted – but Draco didn’t voice his fears and Harry didn’t expect him too. There were plenty of witches who saw Draco's name attached to it and adamantly refused, there were too many that only wanted to do it if it was Harry's child. And throughout it all there were too many nights where Harry had found Draco sitting in his study in the middle of the night - studying the stack of profiles the agency had been sending them with a grim expression.   


Then just like that, so suddenly after months of searching, they found her. A pureblood witch with dark hair and an easy smile, who was more than happy to bear a child for the Malfoy name, and who looked suspiciously similar to Harry's own coloring. He hadn't known that Draco had been trying to find someone who resembled Harry in more ways than not and it was never something the other man had ever admitted outright – but he knew it was true.   


The idea of it left him strangely giddy and had been what started off Harry's _trend of concerning sexual attraction_.   


They'd spent the last nine months wondering what their child would be like, then arguing over a name when they found out it was boy - though Harry had a feeling that Draco had said yes to the name _James_ for different motives than him. But he honestly didn't care if Draco was silently nicknaming their child James Bond in his head.

 

"It is." Harry nodded, pressing a kiss against Draco's temple. He knew that in this moment as Draco processed the news that he wasn't only thinking of their son that they'd both wanted for over two years now but of his mother as well - of how much she'd wanted this for him. "We're going to have a son." He whispered, holding him tighter, pressing him nearer, and letting a single tear fall down his cheek and catch on the curving grin of his lips. "God, I hope he has your eyes."

 

Draco let out a little choking laugh that sounded broken in the corners, the stiffness of the man’s body slowly melting into him. "Yours would do as well Harry." He murmured, his voice oddly soft and sweet in that secret way of his that he rarely let out - and only ever in front of Harry.

 

He was the luckiest, fucking man in the whole damn world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS OVER GUYS! Awww I feel rather sad about that ;( I loved writing this fic and don't particularly want to let my boys go yet. Sorry this last bit took so long, that crash and loosing all those chapters really threw my writing through a loop and I'm really, really hoping this chapter came out good because I don't know...I love/hate it I suppose, if that makes any sense. I think I just need to get myself back into the groove of writing again.
> 
> Bah, I'm rambling, sorry!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


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